


Ways of Loving

by DelightfullyHuman



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, Caning, Dungeon, Eventual Shklance, Exhibitionism, Intercrural Sex, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Play, Public Blow Jobs, Safewords, Shibari, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelightfullyHuman/pseuds/DelightfullyHuman
Summary: As they explore their budding relationship and expand their sexual desires, Lance and Keith find themselves attending the local BDSM dungeon, seeking a safe space to experiment. But not all skills can be self taught, and the pair seek guidance from the Chief Dungeon Monitor, a seasoned dominant with a kind voice and a firm hand that eases them closer with each intimate lesson.





	1. Chapter 1

While the foyer had been politely decorated but unassuming at best, the main room was a far cry from any expectation Lance could have had. He had anticipated a dank sort of warehouse, complete with concrete floors and featuring the distinct sensation of being in a low budget porno. But the room they had been let into was the complete opposite in its tasteful grandeur. Lance slowed, struggling to put his ID away as he stared, unable to tear his eyes from the elegant beauty of the main play area of the Altea Dungeon, local BDSM club.

The walls were painted a rich red, the lighting low enough to accent it in a way that made the color inviting rather than corny. A lavish carpet covered the floor, Persian in style and plush even beneath the barrier of his shoes. There were fine leather couches placed around long, low coffee tables, chairs with velvet upholstery, and an incredible array of furniture and structures whose purpose Lance couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Keith stepped up beside him, his wallet already securely stowed back in his pocket. He whistled lowly as he regarded the area, his hands shoved casually in his pockets. His eyes glinted in the low light, bright with his admiration. It was a mild expression, but Lance could read him well by now, their casual relationship extending well into its fourth month. Keith’s dark eyes roved over the room, taking in absolutely everything.

The walls were lined with artworks and racks that were fully stocked with ropes, chains, whips, and all manners of leather items that looked almost too decorative for use. This place was exquisite, and instead of feeling dirty or ashamed, Lance felt a coquettish sense of belonging. A shiver tingled up his spine, and he was so busy imagining what the carpet would feel like under his bare knees that he startled a little when Keith elbowed him.

“Isn’t this crazy?” Lance hissed, leaning close to him as if in conspiracy. Keith shrugged, his leather jacket rising and falling heavily with his shoulders, dripping nonchalance outwardly despite the slight upward tilt of his lips. He was just as thrilled as Lance was, and he looked half wild with fiery eyes and wisps of dark hair flying loose around his face. He had forgotten to pull the messy ponytail from earlier out of his hair. Lance didn’t remind him to take it down.

“Find Hunk.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Lance glanced around, paying more attention now to the people rather than the furniture. There were quite a few attendees, all in various states of dress, or lack thereof. Some wore all leather, some had on suits, and even others were wearing street clothes like he and Keith. One woman was even wearing black latex dress, all shiny and bright and entirely too flattering. Lance tore his eyes away from her, continuing his search for his friend, his guide, the only reason they were here in the first place.

He caught sight of Hunk walking towards them from the left, his bulk accented even more by the low lighting. He somehow looked taller, more imposing, his shoulders wider and his back taller. He was dressed simply, but nicely, in black slacks and a button down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, exposing strong forearms.

“Hey!” Hunk greeted, his voice warm and friendly and incredibly normal despite the oddness of the situation. “Glad you guys could make it.”

“Us, too,” Lance agreed. “This place is bomb, Hunk!”

Hunk grinned. “Yeah, it’s alright.” He turned, looking over the room with no small sense of pride. “I thought it would be weird for the two of you to come see it, but it doesn’t even feel like that at all.”

Lance had imagined it would feel weird, too. He knew that Hunk was into the scene, and that he apparently was really good at some specific something-or-other. He had never thought much about it or expressed much interest in the community, full of extremities and rules and oddly specified interests. It hadn’t been Lance’s thing. But then Keith had fallen right smack into his life, and next thing he knew, Hunk was scolding them about the bruising on Lance’s wrists. He had given them the website and invited them to munches and badgered them until they went, begrudging and more than a little excited.

At least, Lance was. He suspected that Keith enjoyed it, too, despite the firm set of his mouth during each meet up with the locals. He had apologized very sincerely about the bruising, kissing each dark spot with a private tenderness, and he had gone along on this adventure with minimal complaint. Now, he stood firmly by Lance’s side, the ghost of a gloved hand lingering on Lance’s lower back in a gesture of both support and comfort.

“Have you started working yet?” Keith asked amiably, and Hunk turned back to them with a lopsided smile, giddy and excited.

“Yeah, I had my first day as assistant DM last Sunday,” he said, the glee that slipped into his voice infectious. “Coran is suggesting that I teach a class or something, but it won’t be for a little bit, at least until we finalize the new calendar.”

Keith nodded as if he understood exactly what Hunk was saying, and Lance almost rolled his eyes. He probably did know, if Lance cared to give it any thought. Keith was far more active on the website than he was, always reading something, always posting some comment or another, his fingers typing lightning fast and his posture shifting forward with interest. Lance shifted just a tad closer to Keith’s side, squashing any nerves he might have had and opening his mouth to ask Keith what he wanted to look at first.

But for once, he wasn’t fast enough. Hunk spoke first, pointing over their shoulders to the door on the opposite side of the room.

“That’s the Chief Dungeon Monitor,” he said.

Lance and Keith turned, following Hunk’s indication. The man he pointed to was tall, his commanding stature rounded by muscles so well defined they might as well have been carved by the angels themselves. His hair was cropped in a severe undercut, and the top was dyed to a crisp silver. He didn’t wear any stylized clothing, only black pants and a matching t-shirt with the dungeon’s logo emblazoned across the back. He wore a utility belt, too, from which were secured a variety of items. Lance could make out a flashlight, a pair of EMT shears, and a radio, but there was plenty more. He obviously wasn’t here to play. The other man accompanying him was dressed similarly, belt and all, but had ginger hair and a bushy mustache to match.

When the Chief DM faced the gathered crowd, despite all expectations of severity, his smile was absolutely disarming. Honest, open, and stunningly gorgeous, he greeted the room with a strong voice that carried each word with a clarity that only practice could obtain.

“Welcome, everyone,” he said, and the loose crowd tightened around him, waiting for his words with a hushed anticipation. Hunk ushered Keith and Lance to join, and they did, stepping in close among everyone else.

“Thank you for joining us today at Altea,” the man continued. “This is my first day back as Chief Dungeon Monitor, and I’m glad to see all of you, new faces included.”

His dark eyes swept the crowd, attentive as fond, as if memorizing each new face and recalling each old one.

“For those that don’t know me, I’m Shirogane Takashi. Shiro’s fine. I’m co-owner, Chief DM, and I teach or assist with the classes held here.”

In the dim mood lighting of the main area, it was difficult to accurately discern facial features. But upon studying him from this close, Lance could see that Shiro was of Asian descent. Not like Keith, whose blended heritage gave him a sense of unassuming beauty, but a stark set of rounded features and a strong jawline that left him looking both stern and devastatingly handsome. A thin silver scar slashed his face apart over the nose, but it only served to make him look more rugged.

 “You’re staring.”

Keith’s voice murmured close to his ear, his warm breath disturbing the fine brown curls of Lance’s hair. His tone wasn’t rude of accusatory, simply amused admonishment, and Lance looked away from Shiro to study the other DM instead, trying not to think too hard about Keith’s lips so close to his ear, nor the way his hand stroked Lance’s back in a soothing gesture of agreement.

“Just some general housekeeping,” Shiro continued. “Next week’s class slot is just going to be a general meeting to discern interests for this next season’s classes, so we can invite experts as need be. There should be an event on the Facebook page and the Fetlife group. RSVP if you’re interested in going so we can provide an accurate amount of refreshments.”

There were nods and sounds of assent throughout the crowd, and Lance was turning his head to Hunk to ask if they were allowed to go when the sudden, commanding tone of Shiro’s voice made everyone pause in place.

“Another thing. Anyone who hasn’t yet signed and turned in the house rules sheet, please do so. If you don’t, or haven’t, I will have to ask you to leave.” Shiro’s gaze was hard, his mouth set firmly in an expression that booked no argument. “I know it sounds harsh, but safety is our first priority. Anyone who does not agree to accept our rules is unwelcome.”

The mood immediately shifted, the seriousness of his tone felt very, very clearly. Shiro waited a moment, letting it sink in, but then let his expression soften back into an easy smile. “Alright,” he conceded. “Everyone have fun, and be safe. Coran and I are here if you need anything.”

And with that, the crowd began to disperse, diffusing out into the building to begin their night. Lance turned to Keith, whose expression was both thoughtful and oddly heated as he watched Shiro leave. He was thinking, turning something over in his mind, and Lance knew from experience that he would have to wait until Keith was finished parsing through his thoughts to hear about it.

“That’s Shiro,” Hunk offered, recapturing their attention and beckoning for them to follow him. “He and Allura own the place. He’s worked at like, two other dungeons, though. He was actually doing some stuff at one of them over the summer.” Hunk spoke as he walked, leading them to the richly stained desk that sat towards the front of the room by the entrance from the foyer. There was a letter rack on it, along with a phone, note taking supplies, and a framed sign that said, ‘Please Do Not Play on Me!’

Hunk eased open one of the desk drawers and pulled out two sets of forms. Each was two sheets stapled together, and Hunk handed one set to Keith and one to Lance.

“Those are the house rules,” he said. “Read them over, then sign the second page and pop it on the desk. The first page is for you guys to hang on to for reference.”

Keith nodded once in acknowledgement, but immediately turned his full attention to the sheet. He was absorbed in it, but his brow furrowed as he tried to read the simple font in the dim light. Lance watched him for a moment, knowing that he struggled to read text sometimes, anyway, let alone in a place where every sight and sound was a new and colorful distraction.  

“Go have a seat at the big table,” Hunk said, gesturing. “Give it a read and I’ll see about giving you guys a tour.”

“Thanks, man,” Lance said with a grin, leading Keith towards the aforementioned table, which was blissfully empty. “I’ll read it to you,” he offered as he and Keith sat on the bench that ran down one side of the table. “I know the light in here is weird.”

Keith stared at him a moment, his expression analyzing, discerning; but didn’t protest. Tension eased from his shoulders in gratitude as Lance began to read, his eyes following along on the page, their thighs touching beneath the table.

***

It wasn’t a particularly trying read, but they went through each rule with care. As capriciously as they had begun this, Lance knew that they were willing to put forth the effort. Enough to do this much, at least, and he was quietly grateful that Keith was willing to go so far with him.

The form was mostly rules about safety, all of which seemed reasonable enough. Ask before playing, respect boundaries, stop if told to stop. Keith agreed very vehemently in regards to the rules about consent, something that made Lance’s stomach flutter with a warm appreciation.

They each signed their respective acknowledgement sheets and stacked them in the middle of the desk as they had been instructed. Lance folded his set of rules, delicately torn away from the staple, and crammed it into his pocket, making at least ten mental notes to retrieve it before laundry day.

“What now?” Keith asked, walking aimlessly towards the center of the room, managing to look both blasé and like a kid in a candy store at the same time. Lance walked beside him, trying to seem confident despite the fact that his head was filled the rules they had read and the sounds that surrounded them, and the hot sense of titillation that boiled between his hips.

“Dunno,” he said, a little breathier than he would have liked. “Hunk promised us a tour.”

But Hunk was nowhere in sight. There were quite a few couples and small groups in the main room, but their friend was not among them. However, Lance couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on some of the scenes that were playing out. One woman had cruel looking clamps on her nipples, and a man nearby wore a latex hood. Someone else was bound to one of the giant frames shaped like an ‘X,’ shuddering hard as their partner shocked their thigh with some sort of electrical wand.

“Quit staring,” Keith murmured in his ear for the second time that night, and Lance felt a thrill shoot right down his spine. He flushed, turning to Keith to regard his crooked grin. It would almost be cute, the teasing, if Lance wasn’t on the very edge of being overstimulated. “Guess we’ll have to give ourselves our own tour.”

He took Lance’s hand in his own, still gloved and a little too firm. Holding hands was still new to them, and it was usually Lance who initiated, so the development was a pleasant surprise. Keith didn’t seem at all unnatural or tense, his posture relaxed and his stance confident; a dominating personality in a place deliberately meant to foster such a heady urge. Lance let himself be led with a giddy smile, following Keith’s lead to a low, padded bench already rigged with restraints.

“What do you think this is for?” He asked, curiously easing closer to the piece of furniture. He considered reaching out a hand to touch, mostly because the padding looked so supple, almost brand new. He imagined that it would feel soft against his skin, and while he wanted to experience that for himself, he didn’t quite get there first.

Keith sat on the bench in front of him, his knees spread and his eyes dark as he looked up at Lance, guiding him closer by their joined hands. His gloved palms moved to rest lightly on Lance’s narrow hips, that same crooked smile sweeping across his face.

Lance brushed a stray wisp of hair back from Keith’s forehead, smiling as Keith turned his head to press his lips against the delicate inside of his wrist.

“How do you like this place so far?” Keith murmured, the threat of teeth so close to his skin, and Lance felt the tips of his ears redden.

“I like it,” he admitted. “It’s pretty. And I wanna try more stuff with you, you know?”

“I know.” Keith’s answer was simple. They had discussed this between them, this desire to expand from the sexual norm into a bit of deviancy. And they had tried, with a belt and a bedpost, completely ignorant of the potential damage Lance could have taken had Hunk not noticed and gently intervened.

Lance couldn’t help but be glad, though. This opened hundreds of new doors for them, and Lance could tell, especially now, that Keith was just as invested as he was.

“Kiss me,” Keith said, his gaze heated, and Lance felt his mouth go dry. He bent down, placing a chaste kiss on Keith’s lips, and the smile he felt made Lance’s gut twist. “You can do better.”

Lance flushed, immediately indignant. “Do it yourself, then!”

Honestly, he should have expected the reaction. Keith was a brushfire, sparking immediately and consuming every scrap he could touch, and he grasped Lance’s jacket, standing and pushing him backwards with a firm insistence until his back was pressed flush against the wall. Lance would have opened his mouth to protest, but Keith’s lips were on his instantaneously, warm and dry and chapped from riding his motorbike in cooling weather. A firm thigh pressed between his own and Lance’s head spun, his resolve held up only by the leg between his and the fists gripping his clothes.

The kiss was a passionate one, heated and demanding, each moment a building testament to Keith’s ability to rise to a challenge, no matter how trivial. That, paired with the combination of cries from others in the background, and the ambiance, and the simple fact that Keith wanted him at all made Lance shudder. He leaned hard against the wall, tilting his hips against Keith’s thigh experimentally. One of those deft hands, leather clad and clever, released his jacket to slide up his neck as Keith took his mouth in bruising kisses. Long fingers grasped a handful of Lance’s hair, and Lance pulled away just enough, lips parted, anticipating the moment when he would cry out in pleasure-

Pain.

“OW!”

The sound was louder than he had thought, but so was the savage yank on his hair. Keith stepped back suddenly as tears sprung to Lance’s eyes, and he rubbed furiously at the back of his head to try and soothe the sharp sting.

The mood was gone now, evaporated in a very disappointing turn of events. Lance was prepared to sigh and get over it when a spike of panic flooded him, his eyes widening as he saw the Chief DM himself approaching them from over Keith’s shoulder.

“Is everyone okay?” He asked, and Keith whirled around to face Shiro, who had paused off to the side with an expression both welcoming and concerned. Keith didn’t respond, gaping like a fish suddenly reeled out of water, but Lance began to nod furiously.

“Yeah, man, we’re fine, totally good!” He blurted. “Totally okay. Thanks, though. Good job, fast response.”

Shiro smiled at him kindly, somehow managing not to outwardly judge Lance for his word vomit.

“You’re Hunk’s friends?” He asked, glancing between the two of them. “He mentioned he had invited a couple of people.”

Lance nodded again, relaxing a little with the change of subject. Hunk was a good subject, a safe subject.

“Yeah. I’m Lance. This is Keith,” he said, gesturing between them. “Hunk’s talked you guys up a lot.”

Shiro’s expression brightened. “I hope we can exceed your expectations,” he said politely, his eyes warm but somehow calculating, subtly darting between them. “The two of you are new to the scene?”

Once again, Lance nodded. Keith stood as still as stone, his shoulders set back with a tension born from intimidation and worry and the aggressive need to fight or flee, a physiological response that seemed to rule every aspect of Keith’s being.

“May I give you some advice?”

At this, Keith turned back to Lance, a silent question in the firm set of his mouth, in his posture. Lance swallowed, knowing that it was up to him to answer, despite that fact that he had never felt so stripped of words in all his life, half from embarrassment and half from arousal. As much as he enjoyed the dungeon so far, something about it made him feel a little too open and a little too raw and a good deal more vulnerable than he had expected.

“That would be cool,” Lance managed to say, and Shiro’s responding smile eased his frazzled nerves, comforting in its sincerity and in the way it made his eyes crinkle around the edges.

Shiro stepped closer to them, standing slightly adjacent to Keith, but squarely in front of Lance, a very calculated stance based on his assumption of their roles. “May I touch him?” He asked Keith, and Lance’s heart began to slam itself against his chest when he realized what Shiro meant.

Shiro was asking for Keith’s permission to touch Lance. As if Keith owned him.

The thought made his knees want to buckle under his own weight.

“You may,” Keith said, his tone absolutely calm, as if unfazed by the inquiry, the tension bleeding slowly from his shoulders. As if it was asked of him every day, as commonplace as if someone had asked for the time. Lance wanted to hate him his calm and easy dominance.

Shiro spoke to Lance next, his voice soft as he took an easy step forward. “May I touch you?”

“Yes,” Lance breathed, hardly daring to raise his voice lest he end up squeaking out the answer.

Shiro was slow in his movements, gentle as he raised a large hand to rest on the side of Lance’s neck. His hand was hot, his palm dry, and his fingers slid into Lance’s hair with a tenderness that Lance couldn’t remember feeling before. The lingering pain of having his hair yanked was still there, but Lance could ignore it with the way Shiro carefully closed his fist into the roots at the back of his head. He used that grip to guide Lance’s head back, forcing him to bare his throat. Lance swallowed, his eyes sliding closed.

“Be gentle with him at first,” Shiro murmured to Keith. “Warm him up to being treated roughly, if that’s what you want.”

Shiro turned Lance’s head one way, then the other, showing Keith the absolute control he had, despite his sweetness.

“See how I have it held closer to the root?” Lance heard him say. “Grabbing hair by the ends means more tension, and a lot less pleasurable sensation. You don’t even have to pull, just flex your hand.”

And then Shiro demonstrated, his grip loosening and tightening in a slow, pulsing rhythm that made tiny little sparks dance down his neck in pleasure. It felt good, the repetitive tightening and loosening feeling almost like a massage, if it could be called such.

When Shiro let go, Lance opened his eyes and just barely bit down on his tongue in time to stop a whine of protest. Shiro was still smiling at him, kind and understanding.

“Hunk is in the side room to the far right, I think he got pulled away for a question about flogger recommendations,” he said, turning to finish his rounds of the room. “Let me know if you two need anything.”

And when Keith pushed Lance back against the wall, ignoring the information about Hunk, it was slower this time, and every clench of that gloved hand in his hair made Lance shudder, groaning into each hot kiss like he had already found the line in his mind between his normal self and the self that didn’t care who saw him being dominated in a dungeon and leapt over it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance return to the dungeon, this time to ask for more advice.

 “Did you guys enjoy your visit?” Hunk asked during lunch on Monday. The fast food area on campus was bustling with people, each table packed during the midday lunch swing. No one would overhear them, and even if they did, no one would care. Still, Lance appreciated the discretion.

“It was great!” He said, dragging another curly fry through the puddle of ketchup on his plate. “We had a good time.”

“Good. Again, sorry for ditching you guys for a little bit,” Hunk apologized sheepishly, but Lance waved it off.

“No worries! We occupied ourselves.”

“I saw.”

Lance did his best not to blush, and Hunk laughed at his expression, kicking him lightly under the table.

“It’s fine, it’s the nature of the place,” he said, reassuring as always. “I wouldn’t have invited you guys if I wasn’t at least somewhat okay with seeing you two sucking face.”

“Stop!” Lance nearly screamed, smacking at Hunk’s arm from across the table.

Hunk just laughed, a warm, rambunctious sound. “Oh, come on,” he said. “If you guys keep coming, you’ll see worse from me and I’ll see worse from you.”

Lance grumbled, cramming another fry into his mouth. “Yeah, well. We’re going to go to the meeting on Wednesday.”

“Yeah?” Hunk asked with interest, leaning forward just a little.

“Yeah. Keith texted me about it yesterday, so I think we’re gonna go.”

“Awesome!” Hunk exclaimed, excitement making his eyes glint. “It’s just to see what people are going to be interested in so we can get an idea of what kinds of classes to hold. Now that we have a lot of new people.”

As a college student, Lance considered classes to be seminars in big halls with bored professors and lots of bookwork. He imagined half naked people sitting in a circle, listening to the ginger haired man drone on about the history of blah blah blah.

“What kind of classes do they teach?” He asked anyway, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s mostly hands on, depending,” Hunk answered. “There’s a brief on safety and technique at the beginning, maybe a demonstration. Then you can try it yourself.”

“Huh.” Lance gazed over Hunk’s shoulder at the wall, not looking at anything in particular. “Does Shiro teach any of the classes?”

“Yeah. He led a really good talk about head spaces earlier this year.” Hunk said, nudging Lance with a grin. “Why?”

“No reason!” Lance said loudly, his focus snapping back to Hunk’s face. “He just gave Keith and I some really good advice last time. I wondered if he would, like…” Lance paused. Was that too forward? He was too scattered and Keith was too rough initially, but once Shiro had guided them in the right direction, the interactions between them had been so much smoother. So much more natural. But he couldn’t just outright ask the co-owner of the dungeon to personally oversee their budding relationship to make sure they wouldn’t make complete fools of themselves.

“If he would what?”

“Give us some nudges,” Lance finished with a shrug, unsure of what to make of the thoughtful look on Hunk’s face.

“Well,” he said. “You’ll have to ask him. Shiro’s a really good guy, and I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to keep an eye on you two.”

“I mean, I don’t want to inconvenience him,” Lance pointed out. “He’s busy.”

“Yeah, but if there’s one thing that Shiro cares the most about, it’s safety and communication in the scene,” Hunk said. “If you and Keith are struggling a little to build that ground layer of rapport and nonverbal understanding, then he would definitely be willing to give you some pointers.”

Lance nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he hummed. “Maybe I’ll ask.”

***

On Wednesday, Lance’s class ended at six. Which was unfortunate, considering that the meeting began at seven. Keith picked him up directly from campus and they had just enough time to get Chipotle before it was ten til.

Lance pulled the spare helmet on and straddled the back of Keith’s motorbike, letting his thighs slot firmly around Keith’s hips. He wrapped his arms around Keith’s trim waist and pressed his chest to his back, holding his boyfriend close and enjoying the close, intimate contact.

Boyfriend.

Even thinking the word made Lance’s stomach flutter and churn with the novelty and the permanence, and he tightened his grip as Keith started the bike.

“Ready?” He asked over his shoulder, a gloved hand coming to rest briefly on Lance’s arm in a quick expression of affection.

“Yeah,” Lance said, pausing for just a moment before letting the suggestion come out, the bike rumbling beneath them. “Hey. I was thinking. We should ask that Shiro guy for more pointers.”

“Did you like him that much?” Keith asked, but his tone was more amused than malicious.

“He was really nice and he’s a total babe!” Lance exclaimed, a little louder than was probably necessary.

But Keith just laughed, and Lance could feel his mirth even closer, pressed as securely to Keith as he was. “Alright,” he conceded. “You’re right, he’s a good looking guy. Let’s ask him. He said on Fetlife he was going to be there tonight.”

“You talked to him?”

Keith shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, I thanked him for the advice and we chatted a little.”

Lance pouted. “I’m jealous.”

Keith pinched his arm and jammed his heel into the kickstand to knock it back up. “Don’t be,” he said, pulling out into the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

***

They arrived at the dungeon only a few minutes late, but there were plenty other stragglers in the parking lot. As they went inside, Lance slipped his hand into Keith’s, his palm warm and dry and a little rough without the glove. Lance gave a little squeeze, and in response, Keith threaded their fingers together instead.

The meeting took place in one of the side rooms, this one painted a neutral cream tone and littered with couches and chairs. It was obviously meant more for comfort than for serious play, and the air was welcoming. Chatter filled the space, friendly expressions on the faces of everyone they passed. Towards the far end of the room was a long table laden with snacks and bottles of soda, where Shiro stood talking with the ginger haired man and a woman with dark skin and pale hair and the most commanding stature Lance had ever seen.

Keith led the way, always a fearless trailblazer. He stopped the other side of the table from the trio, and they all turned to smile at them.

“Welcome back,” Shiro said brightly, looking genuinely happy to see them. “This is Coran, my partner in monitoring,” he said. “And this is Allura. She and I co-own Altea. Coran, Allura, this is Lance and Keith. They’re friends of Hunk’s.”

Lance reached out to shake their hands, beaming at them with excitement and a little pinch of nerves. These people were professionals, and he felt very much like an ill-informed moron playing at a game that he didn’t quite understand the rules to.

“Welcome,” Allura said, gesturing to indicate the room around them. “We are very happy to have you. Hunk is an incredible asset to our team.”

“Hell yeah he is!” Lance said, beaming with pride. They had only been friends since college, but Lance held him in high esteem, and wouldn’t dream of passing up an opportunity to sing his praises.

Allura smiled, her hand falling down to the tabletop and pushing forward a sheet of paper. There was already writing on it, and Lance leaned closer to read it.

“We’re taking suggestions for what kinds of classes you all would like to see here,” she explained. “Many of our veterans are skilled or experienced enough to know the majority of these topics, so we want to get an idea of what the newer crowd is interested in. If you agree with something already written, just put a tally next to it.”

Lance read through the list as he listened to her smooth, airy voice. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what some of the items were, and felt too shy to ask. Would they judge him for what he didn’t know?

His eyes settled squarely on one of the suggestions towards that middle, one that read: ‘Florentine demonstration from Hunk.’ While he wasn’t entirely sure what Florentine was, besides a cookie, he would second anything that Hunk was associated with. He carefully put a tally mark next to it, then passed the pen to Keith.

Keith, unfortunately, placed tallies next to several of the items, already confident in what he liked and what he wanted to see.

Lance rolled his eyes, looking up and immediately meeting Shiro’s gaze. His eyes were brown, a rich color that almost shone golden in the light, and set above a firm nose crossed with a thin scar. His expression was supportive, and he gestured to the sheet.

“See anything good?” He asked, purely conversational.

Lance nodded, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Yeah... Hey, Shiro. Can we, uh. Ask you something?”

It was only because he was looking Shiro in the face that he saw the slight widening of his eyes to indicate his surprise. But it quickly smoothed over into that ever patient, immensely kind look, gracious and accommodating and terribly handsome.

“Of course,” he said, and Allura politely drifted away of her own volition, Coran close behind.

Keith straightened beside him, closing the pen and firmly placing it on top of the paper. He reached out, placing his hand on Lance’s lower back, soothing in its domineering quality. His confidence was nearly palpable, his back tall and his shoulders set and his eyes fierce with what he wanted.

He was stubborn, through and through, and Lance had no doubt that he could pull anything he wanted from anyone, Shiro included. Lance was more than happy to take the backseat, fading a little into Keith’s side as he gave up control of the conversation.

“You gave us advice last time,” Keith began, and Shiro nodded. His own posture had straightened in response to Keith’s, and it made him seem even taller than he already was, even wider across the chest. “We obviously don’t know shit, so we want you to give us some more tips.”

“Please,” Lance added sweetly. “I know you’re probably very busy, and we would ask Hunk, but he’s my roommate, I see him every day. And you’re so easy to talk to, we felt that…” he glanced at Keith, who scratched at his back encouragingly. “We felt that you would be the best person to ask.”

Shiro glanced between the two, thoughtfully analytical in his silence. He crossed his arms, studying each of them in turn and then together, as if measuring their resolve and their dedication to the scene and to each other.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said slowly. “Mentoring you. Were you planning to come play this weekend?”

They didn’t have to look at each other to nod. They knew as they had left the previous Friday that they wanted to be a part of the scene instead of just watching.

“Alright. I’m not on monitor duty on Friday,” Shiro said thoughtfully, his brow furrowing a little. He looked back up, meeting both of their eyes in turn. “Have you two negotiated yet?”

“No,” Keith said as Lance shook his head.

Shiro nodded. “Alright. We can start with that. Do you two have some time now?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, hoping he didn’t sound as eager as he felt. Keith had mentioned negotiating before, defining the terms of the relationship that they would have in the setting of BDSM. It made perfect sense, and Lance was more than willing to talk it over, especially if it meant that Keith would open up even more in regard to their sexual relationship.

While Keith never seemed to want to talk about them as a couple, he didn’t balk as Shiro gestured to the doorway. “Let’s go have a seat in my office and I’ll give you guys a worksheet.”

‘A worksheet?’ Lance mouthed to Keith as they walked, following Shiro’s lead through the room. Keith shrugged, dismissive in lieu of admitting that he didn’t have an answer, but he let Lance take his hand again. They stopped only once for Shiro to tell Allura that he was going to his office, and then they were out of the doorway, heading down a hallway and off into another area of the building.

This part was more industrial, with tile flooring and fluorescent overhead lights that reminded Lance very much of his college. They stopped near the far end by a door with a large corkboard on it, upon which were pinned several cards, notes, and papers. Shiro unlocked the door with a sparse set of keys and ushered them into a small but cozy office, stuffed with a desk, a bookshelf, and two oversized chairs.

“Have a seat,” Shiro said, squeezing between the desk and the bookshelf to sit in the computer chair. He seemed a little too big, too bulky for the tiny space, and Lance grinned at his misfortune. He plopped down in one of the chairs, bouncing a little and looking around. The bookshelf was stuffed with all sorts of things, both fiction and nonfiction. Some were even anatomy books, and a couple looked like emergency response manuals.

Sitting on top of the shelf was a black lock box that was covered in stickers. One Lance recognized as Altea’s logo. He opened his mouth to ask what was in it when Keith kicked his ankle. He whipped his head around to protest the abuse, but then he saw the twin sheets of paper Shiro had placed in front of them and fell silent.

“I know you guys are new to the community,” Shiro began. “But you seem dedicated. I would be honored to mentor you, at least until you get your feet under you. Now,” he said, tapping one of the papers. “This a basic negotiation sheet. Super simple. All it wants is for you to list your safewords, your hard and soft limits, and anything you want to try. Do it separately, then go over it with each other.”

“Now?” Lance asked, leaning forward to pull his own sheet closer.

“I was going to suggest you take it home, but you can do it now,” Shiro said. “If you want me to be here. Altea does offer negotiation mediation.”

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but Keith spoke first. “Yeah, let’s do it now. In case we have questions.”

Shiro nodded, giving them that brilliant smile. He pushed a cup filled with an assortment of varied pens toward them, letting each pick his own. “Awesome. Have you decided who’s in which role, or does it depend on the scene?”

Lance clicked his pen a couple of times, turning to Keith. He was watching Lance, his expression unreadable but intense, his hair loose and spilling onto the red shoulders of his jacket in thick waves. Lance’s throat felt dry. This was why they were doing this in the first place, because Keith was naturally domineering, volatile and possessive, and it made Lance want to immediately sink to his knees.

“I’m submissive,” he said, finally managing to tear his eyes away and look back to Shiro, whose gaze flicked to Keith.

“I wouldn’t mind switching,” he answered, his tone calm but guarded. It was an admission that Lance had never heard from him, so he wasn’t surprised that Keith already seemed defensive. He tended to second guess himself and his desires, so Lance did his best to take each new revelation in stride. “But I would like to stay dominant in the beginning.”

“Completely acceptable,” Shiro said to them both, even though he was looking at Keith. “Have you thought about the dynamic of your relationship at all?”

“Not really,” Keith answered with a half shrug, far better versed in the terminology and the language of this new hobby than Lance. He would definitely have to do his research if he wanted any chance of keeping up.

Luckily, Shiro had mercy on Lance’s confused expression. He answered with a chuckle in his voice, amused but not judgmental. “There are a lot of different styles of both dominance and submission. It’s about finding what dynamics you like. Dominating someone isn’t just about bossing them around; do you like to bark orders or encourage obedience through a reward system?” Shiro looked at Keith, who gave him a helpless look in response. It made Lance smile. Keith pretended like he didn’t know, but Lance knew, he could feel in every push and pull and each heated kiss that Keith was one who swept in like a desert storm to take what he wanted and leave Lance reeling.

“And submission,” Shiro continued, his kind eyes turning to Lance. “Is about discovering which way you would best enjoy serving. Gorean slave, secretary, puppy, they’re all examples of positions of submission, but each is unique. Finding what’s best for you and finding a partner to complement that is the most important part of BDSM.”

Shiro reached over the table with both hands, tapping both sheets at once. He leveled them with a stare that held just a tint of the severity he had shown the first time they had laid eyes on him, making both Lance and Keith straighten in their chairs.

“That’s why this is the most important part. No one will have a good time if either of you isn’t completely open and honest. Have at it, and remember to have fun.”

***

Honestly, it was like taking a test. Lance found it hard to concentrate a few times, and he kept glancing up to watch Shiro type away on his laptop. Once, he tried to look over at Keith’s sheet, but Keith scowled at him and scooted away, covering what he had written as if Lance was trying to cheat.

Lance gnawed on his bottom lip. He certainly didn’t mind writing what he didn’t want to do, and what he really wanted to do, but he wasn’t exactly sure about what was supposed to go in the middle.

“Psst,” he whispered, and Shiro raised an eyebrow to show he was listening. “What a soft limit?”

“It’s something that you don’t want to do right now but you might be open to trying,” Keith answered, and Shiro nodded in confirmation.

“Or,” he added, managing to speak before Lance retort rudely to Keith. “If you can’t think of anything, write down something you want to know more about.”

That he could do. Lance scribbled down a couple of things he had seen online or in the play room last Friday, then set down his pen.

“I’m done,” he announced, a little smugly. Keith rolled his eyes but stopped writing, putting his pen to the side and sliding his paper back towards Shiro. Shiro closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and folding his hands in front of him.

“Alright,” he said. “Now you go over what you’ve written. How I like to do it is, hard limits first, then soft, then things you want to try. Gets the unpleasant stuff out of the way and ends on a good note.” He tilted his head towards Lance. “You go first.”

“Oh, uh,” Lance said articulately. “Okay.”

He picked up his sheet and cleared his throat dramatically, hoping to put some humor and lightheartedess in the situation. Keith swatted at him, which only made Lance’s grin wider as he began his list.

“Okay, so. No bodily fluids, besides semen, I guess. I really don’t want to be spit on, either. No knives or needles or drawing blood or anything. And no age related stuff. I don’t want to be treated like a baby or a toddler or something, I’m a grown person. And none of this bleeds into everyday life. I may be submissive but I don’t want to be ordered around outside of the scene.” Keith already knew most of these. He had asked, early on, what Lance strictly didn’t want out of their relationship when it had turned sexual, something that Lance had respected him immensely for. The ageplay was something he had recently learned about and decided very firmly that it was for him.

Shiro nodded and gestured to Keith, who sat up a little to express his own hard limits.

“Agreed about fluids. Everything, actually. But I’m going to add waxplay, electrostimulation, and sounding as my hard limits, for both giving and receiving.”

Keith spoke confidently, succinctly, his profile stunning even under the fluorescent office lights. Lance remembered a time during one of their first dates, when Keith mentioned that he used to attend a military academy. He could see it, see it in the set of his jaw, the line of his neck, the Spartan set of his shoulders.

Lance almost didn’t hear Shiro prompt him for his soft limits.

“Well,” he said. “There’s not much that I’m really unsure about, but there’s a couple things that intrigue me that I want to learn more about before I really make a decision. Just things like petplay and more hardcore impact play and humiliation. Not just like bare handed spanking, I mean bigger things. I just wanna know more.” He paused, aware of both Shiro and Keith’s eyes on him, dark and intense in a way that showed that they were listening, hanging on every word.

Keith reached a hand over the arm of his chair, his palm up. Lance placed his own hand in it, relishing in the security of Keith’s firm grip.

“My only soft limits are choking and CBT,” he said, his thumb running over the back of Lance’s hand.

“Totally fair,” Lance said with a smile, one that Keith matched in kind.

“So?” Keith prompted, leaning over the arm of his chair a little. “Now the good part. Tell me what you wanna do.”

Lance felt his heart skip a beat, excitement making his skin flush and his breath catch. “I really wanna try bondage,” he said in a hushed, quick whisper, hyper aware of how attuned Keith, and Shiro, were to him. “Collars, too. Mostly I just… I want to have control taken away from me. I really want to submit, and to be given orders, and be controlled by my dom.”

Keith’s own cheeks had begun to flush, and he squeezed Lance’s hand again. “I want to try bondage, too. I want to restrain you, safely this time.”

The night Keith referenced had been a good one. Keith had bound a belt tightly around Lance’s wrists, then to the headboard, and fucked him into oblivion. But the restraint was too tight, and Lance had pulled too much, and the aches and violently purple bruises were what had prompted Hunk to encourage them to seek a safer outlet. Lance knew that Keith hadn’t meant to hurt him, and felt no resentment. But still, he appreciated the sentiment.

“What else?” He encouraged, a gentle smile on his face.

“I’m interested in impact play, too,” he continued. “We can start bare handed first, though, to see how you feel?” Lance nodded, and Keith squeezed his hand once again. A little reward for being so welcoming. “Maybe some other things, too, but I don’t know yet.”

“Good,” Shiro said, his expression soft with pride as they turned to him, matching smiles on their lips. “So, now. I want the two of you to go home, and decide on one or two things you want to try first. And on Friday, I want each of you to bring an item of clothing or jewelry or something that you think will help you transition into your role. Don’t wear it here, but change when you arrive. It will help you to slide into more of that head space.”

Lance and Keith both nodded, each immediately thoughtful over what item to bring, and what activity to try. Shiro smiled at them, understanding, but regained their attention by gesturing to their sheets. “Now, initial each other’s and hand them over. I’ll make a copy to file and then the two of you can get out of here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Keith said, reaching for one of the pens at the same time Lance met Shiro’s eyes with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this with the intention of porn but ok. Negotiation is important!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theory is well and good, but practice makes perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief update for a busy week! Enjoy and remember to play safe.

The carpet under his bare feet was just as lush as Lance had imagined the previous Friday. It was soft, and so thick, Lance could curl his toes into it. The room was warm, too, which was a blessing; Lance wore only a set of black boxer briefs and a loose white tank, one that showed his collarbones and a flash of his ribs through the armscyes. He didn’t have any outfit specialized to this scene, unfortunately, but the briefs and tank made him feel the most vulnerable, the most suited for his first official go at submission. It showed off huge swaths of brown skin, baring nearly all of his legs, his arms, and his neck. He knew he was a little skinny and disproportionately broad across the shoulders, but he tried not to feel too self-conscious as he re-entered the main room.

His preoccupation with his appearance faded, though, when he caught sight of Keith and Shiro waiting for him by one of the sets of sofas. They were standing, just talking, Keith with his rigid outlines and angular demeanor, and Shiro a careful foil in his rolling musculature and calm possession of power.

They turned to watch Lance approach, and he lowered his eyes. Was it nerves? Politeness? Was he already wading in that vast and endless ocean that was subspace? He wasn’t sure, but he was greeted by the comfort of Keith’s hand on his neck and his lips against Lance’s own.

“New gloves?” Lance asked, his senses flooded with the smell and feel of new leather, and Keith gave a rare, meaningful smile.

“Just for you.”

Just for him. Keith had bought new gloves just to dominate him with, and if anything showed his seriousness and his dedication to this aspect of their relationship, it was that kind of thoughtful commitment. Keith’s palm lay flush against the side of Lance’s neck, the leather sticky in its newness, not yet worn soft. His thumb ran gently over the skin beneath Lance’s ear, just behind his jaw, an intimate little gesture that soothed away any lingering nerves he might have had.

“Tell me what your safewords are, Lance.”

“I’ll say green if things are good and I want more,” he answered, his voice pitched low enough so that only Keith and Shiro, who lingered near them, could hear. “If I need to slow down a little, or change things, or just pause, I’ll say yellow. If I need everything to stop, I’ll say red.” He paused, glancing to Shiro. “We haven’t talked about what I’ll do if I can’t speak, we’re not there yet.”

“That’s fine,” Shiro said with a nod. He wore all black, his pants a solid leather and his sleeveless shirt a tight, stretch material, one that didn’t look at all like it was bought on a whim, or cheaply. He blended completely into the ambiance of the place, fitting in seamlessly as he lounged on the sofa, his arms spread across the back.

Keith fit in, too, all heated leather and heated eyes as he slid his hand into Lance’s hair, similar to the way Shiro had before. He gripped it, firmly but gently, and used the leverage to guide Lance forward and into a searing kiss. It wasn’t open mouthed, but it wasn’t chaste, either, all force and passion. It was the type of kiss that Lance had never felt outside of one of their bedrooms, all sex and domination that made him weak in the knees.

Keith parted from him, already having taken control of the situation and of Lance, who gladly succumbed to it.

“Go to the closet in the side room, the one Hunk showed us. Pick out a set of cuffs that you want to wear.”

With that order, Keith let go of his hair, and Lance nearly stumbled over himself to cross to the opposite door and slip into the cream colored side room where they had held the meeting. There was a walk-in closet there, filled with all sorts of gear that patrons were allowed to borrow. A whole wall was dedicated just to restraints, too many to even try and choose from.

Lance was dumbfounded. He reached out to touch a pair of simple wrist cuffs made of thick leather and linked with a short chain. He had wanted to be bound most of all, rendered immobile and helpless and subject to the whim of someone he could trust to guide him.

When they had arrived, Shiro had asked what they wanted to try first, and Lance had leapt to answer. Bondage and a little bit of spanking to start off. A simple itinerary that could be easily altered to fit their needs, tailored as they went and began to discover one another. But already, Lance’s mind was racing to imagine the other things they could try, his gaze turning to the more complex restraints, meant to twist and subdue anyone and the very whim of their master,

But, of course, they were just beginning. So a set of cuffs, sturdy and inelegant, would surely get the job done.

However. Lance was never one to back away from an opportunity. His gaze wandered over the selection, his head filled with thoughts of impressing Keith, of riling him up, of showing him that he really was into it, was capable of being a good submissive. He reached for a set of cuffs that were attached to the bottom of a strip of sturdy leather with a collar at the top, and Lance could only assume that the purpose was to keep his hands bound to any one of the three anchor points on the strip. The collar was a special point of interest for Lance, too.

He left with the set without a second thought, already sold on the idea. It crossed his mind briefly that Keith and Shiro wouldn’t approve, but Lance very much did not doubt his ability to persuade them. He wondered, for half a moment, why he had begun thinking of Keith and Shiro as a unit, but as he reentered the main room, he could see why.

Keith was still standing, his arms crossed casually as he and Shiro faced one another. They looked like a set, all black and red, comfortable with themselves and each other. Shiro laughed at something Keith said, a warm sound that Lance could hear even over the sounds of the dungeon as a whole. Keith was smiling, already at ease and comfortable around Shiro, something that Lance hadn’t really seen before.

Keith was usually very guarded, hard to approach and reluctant to talk, and it had taken Lance ages to even get a real conversation in. And now here he was, open and social and very much enjoying himself. It almost felt like he was intruding, to interrupt, so Lance stood nearby, bouncing on the balls on his feet in excitement until the pair acknowledged him.

Keith raised an eyebrow when Lance presented the cuff and collar set. He took it, turning over the strip in his hands, the cuffs dangling from one end, the hardware making tiny metallic sounds.

“This isn’t what I asked you to get.”

“You told me to choose cuffs,” Lance said with a smug grin. “I did.”

Keith wasn’t amused. He looked annoyed, even, an expression that Lance was used to seeing, but in this setting seemed worse. He turned to Shiro, as if for help.

Shiro simply smiled at them. “Lance said he wanted to try collars, too. It’s a simple set, there’s no harm in trying it.”

Lance grin returned full force. He felt giddy with Shiro’s blessing, his heartbeat speeding up as Keith sighed and opened the collar.

“Alright, bad boy,” he said, stepping close and wrapping his arms loosely around Lance to wind the collar around his neck. “You get your way this time. It’s just cause Shiro likes you.”

Lance beamed at Shiro over Keith’s shoulder, and Shiro winked at him, a quick little token of conspiracy. Shiro wouldn't have given his approval if it wasn't safe, and he didn't seem to want to put a damper on the fun, either. Shiro was the perfect choice for a mentor, and Lance felt sky high with his delight. 

He sobered, though, when the collar closed around his throat, Keith’s nimble fingers tightening the buckle just over his Adam's apple. The leather of Keith’s gloves brushed the delicate skin of his throat every once in a while, and Lance tilted his chin up for better access. 

The ceiling was high, cast in a shadow by the darkness of the room. It wasn't foreboding, by any means, just something to center his focus as the collar cinched firmly around his neck, a solid, visible sign of ownership. 

He was wearing a collar that Keith had placed on him. That had to mean something, even in the sphere of play. A surge of affection towards Keith filled Lance's chest, and he obediently placed his hands behind his back for Keith to cuff and clip to the strip of leather that pressed into his spine. Keith secured his wrists near the middle of his back, keeping his hands well out of the way of any harm. Lance tested the cuffs when Keith finished, but found that he couldn’t pull his hands down without forcing the front of the collar against his windpipe.

He felt flushed already.

Keith circled him, admiring the picture he made. Lance fidgeted as he was studied, shifting from foot to foot with excitement and nerves, his body thrumming with it. His attention snapped to Shiro, though, when he stood, tall and powerful in his stature. He approached Lance, reaching out to tilt his chin up with cool fingers, gentle in their insidious authority. 

“Breathe,” he said, and Lance released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Be easy. Be still. Lower your eyes.”

His voice was low and smooth, like cool water over stones. Lance felt Keith’s hands on his shoulders, rubbing away the coiled tension, and he relaxed, sagging beneath their touch. He lowered his eyes to the floor obediently, taking deep breaths as he was instructed.

“Headspace can be hard to get into sometimes,” Shiro said, his fingers running through Lance’s hair. "It’s okay to take your time. Just breathe, and focus on the sensations of your body. Feel the carpet under your feet. Feel your restraints, feel your dom near you.”

The carpet was soft, thick but slightly stiff from over vacuuming. The restraints were firm but not oppressive, pressing against his spine and binding his hands up. The collar was a plus, the leather warm and solid against his neck. Keith had dropped his hands, but Lance could still feel his presence, a bright, hot pinpoint of consciousness that Lance always seemed to be aware of. He settled, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Good,” Shiro murmured, returning to the sofa, and Lance glowed with the little burst of pride the praise gave him.

Keith circled back to his front, extending a hand to touch the front of the collar, to brush down Lance’s chest.

“Color.”

“Green.”

Lance’s answer was immediate, confident. He didn’t have to think about it. There was no other answer for him besides a resounding, continuous yes.

Keith stepped even closer, their chests scant inches apart, the difference in their garments only accentuating the power difference between them. Lance kept his eyes trained on the stretch of carpet between his own bare feet and Keith’s boots, and he could feel Keith’s breath hot on his cheek as he spoke.

“I’m going to turn you over my knees,” he murmured, his tone like coals, hot and crumbling as it burned into Lance’s ears, into his head, making shivers shoot down his back. “And spank you. Not because you’re in trouble. But because I want to, and you want to feel me.

Color.” He demanded, louder than the intimate susurration from half a moment before and making Lance jump, dominance sliding onto his shoulders like a mantle, like he was meant for it.

“Green,” Lance breathed, unable to do anything else but adore and consent with every fiber of his being.

Keith sat on the sofa and beckoned to Lance, who approached him with a trepidation born not from fear, but from the quiet thrill that came with the anticipation of being hit. Keith wrapped a hand around Lance’s upper arm, guiding him to kneel on the sofa and then lie across his lap. Lance was grateful that Keith didn’t simply toss him down in his vulnerable, bound state, but eased him instead. His hips were settled squarely on Keith’s lap, his chest and cheek pressed to the seat of the sofa. He faced the back of it, able to see Keith’s side in his periphery, and Shiro’s arm if he glanced up.

Keith’s hands settled on his body, on his ass and lower back, slipping under his tank to rub at his spine, soothing. Lance relaxed, letting his eyes slip closed as his senses zeroed in on Keith’s heat beneath him, on the weight of his hand on his backside. Keith squeezed his ass, then ran his hand over the gentle swell of it, appreciative. He continued to simply touch, and squeeze, and run his nails over flesh, until Lance became impatient. He wiggled in Keith’s lap, hoping to tempt him, but he wasn’t prepared for the light smack that rewarded his effort.

He twitched, from surprise rather than pain, squirming a little under the firm press of Keith’s other hand against his back.

“Behave,” came the growled warning, and for a moment, Lance considered obeying. But he grinned instead, arching his ass up into Keith’s palm, delighted when it resulted in another slap. It didn’t hurt, not like he expected, more akin to the casual smack he and Keith shared affectionately outside of the scene. But the subsequent gripping and stroking of his ass felt nice. As did being bent over Keith’s lap. He let himself be lulled by the rhythm of light hits and lingering gropes, his backside beginning to feel warm and arousal beginning to pool in his groin.

Why hadn’t they tried this sooner? This was nice, to have so much attention paid to one part of his body, to be powerless and appreciated all at once. Wound up in the push and pull of Keith’s hand kneading his ass, Lance almost forgot that he was meant to be getting a spanking.

At least, until Keith’s palm rose and landed firmly, harder than any of the little taps from before. Lance gasped, tensing a little from the shock of it, before relaxing again under the soothing squeezes. He anticipated the next hit, though, when Keith’s hand left his skin, and was able to brace himself for the sudden burst of pain. It wasn’t unbearable, but he bit his lip, shivering as that gloved palm rose a third time.

Keith began a steady sort of rhythm, each slap harder than the last, and they came in quick succession that made Lance squirm and kick his feet in an attempt to relieve some of the pain. He whined after a particularly harsh spank to his sit spot, a pathetic little sound that was muffled when he buried his face into the couch cushions.

The fast rhythm was bordering on too much, his hands clenching helplessly in their bonds as he tried to twist away and closer at the same time. He felt good, he liked this, but it was too much too fast.

“Keith,” he cried softly, his voice sounding a little too raw for his own liking. “Keith, please, slow do- Ah!”

A particularly harsh spank interrupted his words, sending him reeling and making him wonder if maybe he wasn’t allowed to ask for any bit of control, if he had disobeyed an unspoken rule, and a twinge of fear started to twist in his stomach. 

But Shiro was there to come to the rescue, his voice commanding but giving as he spoke.

“Keith, go easier on him,” he said. “He seems a little overwhelmed.”

“How can you tell?” Keith asked, his hand having paused to rest on Lance’s ass, which felt both tender and warm, but the pressure of the hand was nice.

“He’s squirming a little too much,” Shiro answered, once again as if Lance wasn’t there, making him flush. “Kicking and squirming can be good during a spanking, but for a first timer, there’s a little too much tension he’s holding. Also…” Shiro paused. Lance couldn’t see them properly, but he imagined Shiro meeting Keith’s eyes, dom for dom, as Lance lay docile across Keith’s lap.

“In the beginning, when trying something new, don’t interrupt or silence him. Communication modes change in situations like this, and you have to be far more attuned to him if you want him to feel good.” Keith’s hand had begun to rub soothing circles on his backside, and Lance went limp, relaxed now that he could focus on the touch, and again on the collar pressing into his neck.

“You can punish him for cheek all you want when you know what he can take.”

Keith nodded above him, seeming chagrined. But he was always one to recover quickly, from any misstep or reprimand, and Lance felt him straighten a little just before he said,

“Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...! :0


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeling a professional dom into your scene always has consequences (but most of them are good).

“Show you?” Shiro asked, sounding very much unsurprised by the request, but still seeking clarification.

“Yes. Spank him. Show me what it should be like.”

Lance turned his face into the couch, breathing hard against the sudden heat of the room, of the newly charged situation. He arched a little in Keith’s lap, hoping to relieve some of the pressure against his groin. He was pressed solidly against Keith’s thighs now that he was getting hard, a combination of the atmosphere and the spanking and the fact that Shiro and Keith spoke over him like his opinion didn’t count for anything.

“Lance?”

Never mind, then. He glanced up as much as possible when Shiro spoke, drawn by a tone that allowed no disobedience, but still remained forgiving.

“Yes?” Lance’s voice was quieter than he anticipated, his lips and throat dry.

“Sit up.”

The order sent a thrill into his stomach, then lower, and he shifted immediately to obey, arching his backside up to balance on his knees, then straighten. Keith helped him, using steady hands to keep Lance from falling off the sofa. He knelt upright now, Keith the only thing in between him and Shiro, who watched him with a casual confidence, his body language open, his form and his aura full of a raw virility that Lance had never allowed himself to fully appreciate before.

He met Shiro’s eyes for a brief, startling moment before he remembered to lower them, staring demurely at the space on the couch where his face had been pressed just moments before, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Color,” Keith prompted him, and Lance answered as he had before, with just as much intention and meaning.

“Green.”

“Then go to Shiro.”

Lance’s breath caught, but he stood, hyper aware of the press of warm leather against his neck, of the slight burn in his ass, even through the material of his underwear. He felt sensitive all over, each brush of his tank against his nipples, each pull of fabric against his arousal as he walked driving shudders up his spine.

Shiro sat up as he neared, broad hands reaching out to settle on Lance’s hips, his thumbs soothing deep circles just inside his hipbones.

“Look at me,” he purred, and Lance met his eyes without hesitation. “Tell me your safewords.”

“You know them,” Lance said, more breathless than he would like.

Shiro smiled, his thumbs digging in a little deeper, as ‘punishment.’ “Don’t give me attitude,” he said fondly, almost as if this was simply a casual conversation between friends.

Lance made a show of rolling his eyes, hoping to regain a little bit of his self-control, but he complied. “Green for yes, yellow for slow down. Red for stopping.”

“Good boy,” Shiro murmured, and the handful of sobriety Lance had managed to gather to himself was gone, burnt to a crisp by the heat that sank between his legs at the praise. “This time, if you tell me to slow down or stop in those words, too, I will. Are you ready?”

He nodded, his hands clenching behind him in anticipation. Shiro directed him by the hold on his hips, turning Lance’s back to Keith and drawing him to kneel on the sofa, then lie over Shiro’s lap. He was different from Keith, his thighs thicker, more muscle close to the surface, and Lance felt even more helpless. He knew he was a little scrawny, that he didn’t possess nearly the same amount of powerful robustness that Shiro did. Keith’s sinewy strength was at least subtle; Lance could pretend on the surface that they were on an equal playing field.

“You won’t be able to see his face,” Shiro was telling Keith, who had placed a hand on Lance’s ankle to squeeze gently in comfort, in support, and Lance shuddered when he fully realized that Keith would be watching him take a spanking. He would see each slap of Shiro’s hand against him, hear each sound and witness every single one of Lance’s reactions, knowing that he was the one who had made Shiro do it.

“So use what you can see of his hands and his legs to determine how he’s doing. Cries aren’t always indicative. Plus,” Shiro continued, his palm settling on Lance’s ass, the skin not quite as tender as he had expected, but still sensitive. “You’ll be able to feel him since he’s so close.”

Shiro’s palmed his ass, petting and squeezing like Keith had done before but with larger range, touching all the way down to the backs of his thighs. The initial smacks were gentle love taps, peppered amidst the caresses and the tight squeezes. The escalation was slow but gradual, the gentle warming and stoking of the flame in the pit of Lance’s stomach, until Shiro’s palm began to fall fairly solidly, alternating cheeks.

“You’re lucky, Keith,” Shiro said, once again as if Lance wasn’t there. “He’s very physically responsive. Look at how his toes curl when I do this.”

Shiro struck the tender spot where his ass and thighs met, and sure enough, Lance could feel his toes curling, his legs kicking a little to relieve some of the pain. It wasn’t a bad pain, it was good, it was hot, and Lance writhed on Shiro’s lap as the strikes progressed, only to be stilled by a heavy hand on the back of his collar. He was fully hard now, his trapped cock rubbing pathetically against Shiro’s thigh when he arched into each spank, too much sensation but not enough to go anywhere.

He whined when he anticipated a smack that never came, pressing backwards into nothing. He heard Keith laugh behind him, and he blushed furiously, ashamed that his own eagerness had been caught, witnessed by both doms. His doms. Shiro chuckled, too, and continued the spanking, the first two strikes making Lance whimper with how hard they seemed after the brief pause.

“He should know that they’re getting harder, but he shouldn’t be able to feel the escalation,” Shiro told Keith, not even sounding out of breath as his palm cracked down on Lance’s flesh. “Some people like sudden changes, but I find that you can drive your sub crazy more easily with a gradual take.”

“I guess I need to practice,” Keith said, as easily as he would over something as mundane as a cup of coffee. “Hey. Pull his underwear down, I want to see the color.”

Lance whimpered, tilting his abused backside up to show his willingness. The spanking stopped, and Shiro’s fingers eased under the waistband of his underwear to slide them down just to the highest point of his thighs, trapping them together while still keeping his cock covered and pinned down. Lance would swear he did it on purpose.

“Wow,” Keith said, sounding honestly impressed. Lance felt him stand up, and he turned his head to see Keith standing across from Shiro, admiring the dusky pink flush on his dark skin.

“What do you think?” Shiro prompted, his palm stroking Lance’s ass. He shivered, hyper aware that that hand was very capable of spanking him more, despite how gentle it felt now.

“Pretty,” Keith responded, admiration tinged with a hint of mischief that made Lance’s heart pound. “But I think it could be a little darker.”

Lance made a desperate little sound, but he didn’t safeword. He didn’t even ask to slow down, because despite the deep, heated pain, it felt good. Shiro’s hand left his ass, and he braced himself for it to fall back down with a resounding smack, a cry ripping out from between his lips. It felt different against bare skin, sharper and deeper and far louder.

The pace Shiro chose was slower, but harder, and Lance began to kick and twist in his lap, seeking to escape the rain of slaps and to grind against Shiro’s lap at the same time. One particularly harsh strike against the bare underside of his ass made tears spring to Lance’s eyes.

“Oh, please!” He cried, his hands clenching and his body tensing, unable to comprehend how he could take more, how his body could endure more punishment at this pace. But Shiro had mercy, his hand coming back to rest against the vermillion swell of one cheek.

“Good boy,” he murmured, and Lance nearly sobbed, shuddering hard as Shiro pet his tender flesh, suddenly gentle. “Wasn’t he good, Keith?”

“He was,” Keith agreed softly, thoughtfully, reaching down to pet Lance’s hair.

The pain was fading into a deep seated throb, and the tension began to drain from Lance’s body as he was touched, his dom running gloved fingers through his hair and his mentor stroking his ass with a loving sort of tenderness.

Keith knelt beside him, leaning close to kiss his temple. “You were such a good boy,” he whispered, making Lance shiver in subdued delight at the praise. “I wish you could see yourself. All tied up, red ass, bent over someone’s lap like you belong there.”

Lance nuzzled close to him, wanting to be near Keith, wanting to breathe him in. Keith kissed his cheek this time, a brief peck, but then stood.

“What’s next, Shiro?” He asked, and Lance stilled, listening and feeling carefully for Shiro’s response.

“There’s several options,” Shiro said, his hand rubbing Lance’s lower back leisurely. “Some people like to have sex after. Some move on to harder play. Sometimes it ends here, and moves into aftercare. It’s your choice.”

Lance had completely stopped listening after Shiro mentioned sex. He was already aching, and the thought of getting fucked with his ass already this tender made him shudder. He had no doubts that Keith felt the same, but he hadn’t responded. Lance couldn’t see Keith from his position, so he just remained lax and meek in Shiro’s lap.

Shiro seemed to have mercy on them, and he pulled Lance’s underwear back up, gingerly so as not to hurt him unnecessarily. He guided Lance upright in a slow, fluid motion, using a series of subtle touches to direct Lance off of the sofa to kneel on the floor in front of him.

Lance gazed up at him, then Keith, feeling heavy and glassy. Keith was sitting now, beside Shiro, and Lance shuffled closer on his knees to lean against his legs, rubbing his face into his thigh. He felt affectionate, needy, like Keith was too far away, even though the only thing separating them was the material of Keith’s pants.

Keith’s hand fell to his hair to card through it, and Lance shifted even closer, insinuating himself between Keith’s thighs despite his restraints. He rested his cheek on Keith’s leg, gazing up at him with large blue eyes framed with dark lashes, beautiful and open and glazed over with the heady rush of endorphins and adrenaline, pleasure and want.

“Please?” He asked with lips pink and lush and all too tempting, turning his face further in between Keith’s legs. He was just as turned on as Lance was, it was obvious, but he held a tighter, iron fisted control on his inhibitions.

“No,” he said, touching Lance’s cheek tenderly as if to make up for the denial, but Lance pouted anyway, a soft disappointment turning his lips downward.

“If you’ve consented to sexual acts during a scene,” Shiro interjected, constantly helpful and constantly encouraging and constantly getting them into deeper trouble. “Oral sex is allowed in the main room.”

The smile returned to Lance’s face lazily, and he outright buried his face in Keith’s groin. Keith jumped, resisting the urge to slam his legs closed.

“Lance!” He scolded, grasping the back of the collar and pulling Lance away. Lance fought it, straining against the pressure on his throat to try and be closer. Eventually, though, he had to concede, to let himself be dragged off or risk being choked. He whined, looking up at Keith pleadingly, his brow furrowed and his pout sweet. He hoped it was tempting, enough that Keith would give in.

“Aw, come on, Keith,” Shiro’s voice came, merciful once again, and Lance’s chest flooded with gratitude. “Lance was awfully well behaved. He deserves a treat, don’t you think?”

"You're killing me," Keith said to him, to both of them. He was stubborn, but there was only so much he, or anyone, was willing to resist.   
  
Lance quickly doubled his efforts, pulling a little and parting his lips, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them. His ass was sore, now, still burning with that fresh sting as he settled back onto his heels. He could feel the flush in his cheeks, too, and he must have made a very pretty picture, because Keith let go of the grip on his hair.   
  
Lance dove right back between his legs, mouthing insistently at the bulge in his pants, hoping to further persuade him. After a few excruciating moments of uncertainty, he felt Keith's hips relax, his thighs falling completely open. Lance shifted forward just a little more, trying to find some semblance of balance with his arms still bound.   
  
But this was his favorite thing to do, to blow Keith, and come hell or high water, he would find a way. And besides... they were being watched. Not just by Shiro, but several passers-by paused to see Lance mouth and nuzzle at his dom's clothed erection.   
  
"Keith," he whispered, growing impatient with the dry flavor of denim on his tongue. "Let me taste you?"   
  
If they were alone, if Lance hadn't just gotten a spanking that would put most porn to shame, he would have demanded, flirtatiously, that Keith fuck his mouth. Now, though, Lance felt somewhere in the fluttering space in his chest that he should beg permission. That he should wait for Keith to give at his own pace, no matter how agonizing the wait.   
  
He didn't have to wait long.   
  
Keith forced him away for just a moment while he unbuttoned his pants, shoving them and his underwear down just enough to reveal his cock, hard and flushed. He gave it a few cursory strokes, just to tease Lance, grinning at the little sound of protest he made at being forced into patience.   
  
When he finally let Lance take him into his mouth, Keith sighed, hot flesh sliding along Lance's tongue, soft and willing. Lance closed his eyes, savoring the musky salt taste of skin and precome, reveling in the weight in his mouth, in the subtle stretch of his jaw. Lance loved to give oral, especially to his boyfriend, and many a night of practice had trained his throat to take the entirety of Keith's length. He did so now, letting his tongue flatten and his throat flutter around the head, feeling a little winded and a little dizzy but so, so good.   
  
Keith's hand curled in his hair at the crown, just the way Shiro had taught him. The slight stiffness of new leather made the grip a little harder than Keith anticipated, but Lance didn't mind the escalation in tension. 

Keith’s fist in his hair wasn’t meant to control, and it didn’t, simply guiding Lance’s head where it was best suited. Lance went where he was nudged, his bright blue eyes closed, long lashes resting delicately on the skin beneath. Lance had heard, once, that when one sense was taken away, the rest were heightened, and he couldn’t help but feel like it was true. All he could taste was Keith, all he could smell was his musk, all he could feel was the adoration and the satisfaction that came from pleasing another.

Despite the dull ache in his shoulders, the fibers of the carpet pressing into his bare knees, the way his own heels dug into his sore backside, Lance was more at ease than he had anticipated being his first time. Heat chased up his spine, creeping in between his hips and into his cheeks as he laved his tongue over Keith, treasuring each hitch of breath and word of praise.

“God, Lance,” Keith breathed, his tone pitched so that only Lance could hear. Lance opened his eyes to look up at him, his lashes damp, the blue of his irises darkened with the shadow of both the room and his submission, and Keith met them with an unreadable gaze. The only way to tell how he was feeling was by looking at the slack downturn of his lips, soft and open as he exhaled, his brows knit together with a concentration that could have been very easily mistaken for anger. But Lance knew better. His dom was holding on very tightly to his self-control, even as he enjoyed Lance’s mouth for all it was worth.

Lance looked up at Keith sweetly, trying to convey just by his expression how much he wanted Keith to spend into his mouth. He wanted to taste him, to feel Keith unravel, just a little, to let loose from that tight coil of repression that he was trying to keep himself tied up in. And if anyone asked, and he had a way to answer without taking his mouth away, Lance would say that he had been very, very good, and that he shouldn’t be denied the satisfaction of bringing Keith to orgasm.

Besides. He wanted Shiro to see it, too. Hyperaware of Shiro’s eyes on them, Lance did his best to make the entire affair a little bit of a show. Shiro was kind enough to mentor them, he should at least get something out of it, right? Even if it was just seeing Keith’s hand clenched in Lance’s hair and seeing him bite his bottom lip the way Lance knew he did when he was close. Even if it was just watching Lance’s own lips stretched around Keith’s cock, catching enticing glimpses of his pink tongue as it worked over heated flesh.

Bound up, thoroughly beaten and mussed and nearly drowning under the attentions of two dominants, natural and skilled, Lance would have done anything they asked. If Keith had ordered Lance to crawl over and blow Shiro, too, he would.

Lance tried to banish the thought of being shared to focus on Keith even more, subtly shifting to try and relieve the ache between his own legs. He hummed around the cock in his mouth, resisting the urge to grin when Keith jolted. He was close, Lance could feel it in the tension of his body, the way he gripped Lance’s hair painfully hard. He rubbed the flat of his tongue quickly beneath the head, hoping to spur Keith to a quicker, harder orgasm. It worked; Keith’s hips jerked forward, his grip dragging Lance down onto his cock as spurts of hot liquid flooded the back of his throat, a sudden, bitter rush. Lance swallowed desperately, trying not to choke on it, and when Keith pulled him away, he left stripes of come across Lance’s tongue and lips, which he dutifully swallowed and licked away. He nuzzled into Keith’s thigh, closing his eyes as the fist in his hair turned gentle and began to pet him instead.

He listened for Keith’s breathing, hearing it go from heavy exhales to quiet intakes of air as he came down from his little high. He scratched at Lance’s head to get his attention, and Lance opened his eyes, smiling up at Keith. He was handsome, despite the scattered expression on his face. His dark hair was beginning to curl softly around his temples and ears, and his eyes were bright with satisfaction. He was smiling, too, a genuine little turn of his lips as the bright flush eased out of his pale cheeks.

“Your turn,” he said, but Lance shook his head, turning his face into Keith’s hip.

“Can I wait until we go home?” He asked, his voice roughened from the blowjob, his tone verging on whiny. He wanted to get off more than anything, but he wanted to be fucked, and the one downside to the dungeon was that penetrative sex wasn’t allowed. Understandable, but frustrating.

“Why?” Keith asked, cocking his head as he sat forward and took Lance’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking over high cheekbones.

“I want…” Lance faltered, distracted by the touch. He shifted impossibly closer, soothed only when Keith drew him forward to kiss his forehead. “I wanna have something in me. You, or- Or one of the toys or something. Please?”

He could feel Keith smile, his lips turning upward while still pressed to Lance’s brow. “I guess so,” he said, mirth and affection easing into his voice, sweet and insidious in a way that coaxed Lance into falling impossibly deeper in love with him. “Since you were so good.”

Lance beamed. The praise made warmth seep into his chest, settling there with a delightful sort of heaviness that made him feel grounded, secure.

The seat of the couch shifted, and Lance glanced over to Shiro, suddenly remembering his presence. He was aroused, Lance could see it from his place on his knees, tightening the front of Shiro’s pants in a way that made Lance’s mouth dry. But his face showed no evidence at all, complete control schooling his features into a calm veneer.

“Are you two done for the night?” He asked, his gaze searching Lance’s face briefly. Obviously satisfied with what he found there, he turned to Keith for their answer.

Keith nodded. “For now. Lance is going to finish when we get home.”

The way he said it was so blasé, an afterthought, and as if it was any of Shiro’s business at all. Shyness bloomed in Lance’s chest, but he didn’t blush. He had already fantasized about blowing Shiro, he had already been over his lap, tossed face down like a rag doll. How he could even be flustered now, he didn’t know.

But Shiro’s expression was sweet, his smile placid as he placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You guys did really well,” he said honestly. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Keith said, his full attention turned to Shiro, even as he held Lance’s face in his hands. “Aftercare is next, right?”

Shiro nodded. “What each of you need is going to be different,” he said. “But start with Lance. He worked very hard to please you.” Lance glowed, lowering his eyes when Keith turned to look at him. “Take his restraints off, slowly, check for pain or injury. Don’t be afraid to tell him what he did particularly well.”

Keith looked over Lance carefully, taking Shiro’s instruction to heart. “Turn a little to the side,” he said, and Lance did his best to comply. His knees stung a little where the carpet had pressed into his skin, but he managed with no complaint. Keith unclipped the cuffs from the leather strip, slowly lowering Lance’s arms to the small of his back before releasing the cuffs themselves. He took Lance’s wrists in his hands and gingerly drew them around to his front.

There were no bruises, no irritation. Lance’s wrists didn’t even feel sore, just a little sweaty from being locked in the cuffs. Keith pressed kisses to the insides of his wrists, anyway, loving and tender. His hands slid up Lance’s arms, tracing gloved fingertips over his shoulders and up to his neck. He reached for the buckle of the collar, but Lance turned his head away.

“I want your hands,” he whined in response to Keith’s questioning look.

“You have them,” Keith teased, tweaking his nose. Lance wrinkled it, turning his head the other way, his pout deepening. Yes, he did have them, but while the gloves had been nice earlier, now they just seemed a little… impersonal.

“You know what I mean.”

“You want me to take the gloves off.”

Lance nodded, trying not to look pathetic. He wanted to feel his boyfriend’s skin, that was all. The leather against him had been fantastic, the scent heady and the texture slick as Keith had touched him. But now it was the thought of soft skin against his own that made his heart twist in desire, to feel the certain sort of closeness that it would bring.

For a moment, he was afraid that Keith would refuse.

But Keith had always been good to him, and he pulled the gloves free one finger at a time to toss the pair beside him on the couch. His hands were sweaty, too, from being trapped inside the gloves, but it was good to feel their touch. Keith’s hands were hot as they slid up his shoulders to unbuckle the collar, slowly. It slipped free, and Keith set the entire contraption aside.

There was a little bit of redness, but that was all. Keith touched the spot on his throat, carefully, then Lance’s cheek.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Able to move of his own volition, now, Lance took advantage of it. He tucked Keith back into his pants and tugged them up a little before climbing into his lap, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder.

Keith spluttered at the sudden intrusion, but wrapped his arms around Lance, anyway, encasing him in warm affection.

“Are you hurting at all?” Keith murmured into his hair, and Lance shook his head.

“Sore knees. Shoulders ache a little. But I’m okay.”

“You did so good.”

“I did.”

“I’m really proud of you.”

Lance’s breath hitched, and he turned to hide his face in Keith’s neck. He could smell a touch of cologne, there, the kind he had gotten Keith for his birthday. The kind he never wore, except for occasions he deemed important.

“Lance did a very good job,” Shiro added, his voice low and soothing, like a blanket being pulled over cold shoulders. “Keith, you did, too. It’s hard to take full control like that for the first time and not abuse the power, or let it go slack.”

“We had a good teacher,” Keith said, and Lance nodded.

“Flatterers,” Shiro accused, despite his smile. “Keith, just hold him for a little bit, as long as he needs. It’s okay to talk about what you liked and what you didn’t. When you get home, put some cream on him where we roughed him up. Lotion is fine, too, it’ll help keep the skin from tightening and breaking. Take it easy the next few days, alright? Any questions?”

Keith shook his head, and Lance snuggled closer, trusting that Keith would take care of the rest.

“Then I’ll leave you be,” Shiro said warmly. “Keep in touch, alright?”

The cuffs clinked together as Shiro picked up the set to clean and put away. He hesitated, for just a moment, before reaching out and tucking an errant curl behind Lance’s ear. He gave Keith a brief squeeze on the shoulder, and then he was gone, melting into the room like a shadow, like a permanent fixture, something expected and comfortable.

Time blurred a little for Lance after that. Keith held him for a while, murmuring into his hair, simple things about how much he had enjoyed their visit, how pretty Lance had looked. The praise made him melt, and he barely remembered leaving the dungeon.

He did recall the chill of the evening, and the warm sensation of being bundled in Keith’s jacket. The ride back to Keith’s on the motorcycle was awful on his backside, and he clung to Keith’s middle tighter than usual, seeking both comfort and release from the pain.

But Keith was kind to him when they got inside, all kisses and wandering hands, and he smoothed lotion on Lance’s reddened skin both before and after leisurely fucking him with one of Lance’s favorite toys. It was a tired orgasm, but a well-earned one. After, he lay tucked against Keith’s chest in the dark, drifting on post-orgasm relaxation and sleep, his entire body tingling.

“Love you,” he whispered, meaning every exhausted ounce of it, grateful to his lover for being so accommodating, so kind, so deliciously domineering in all the best ways.

The answer came with just as much quiet feeling, like a banked flame in its passion and its ardor, constant and strong.

“Love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tis the season for delays, because writing fanfiction while visiting others is not the kind of icebreaker I was going for... 
> 
> Happy holidays, and always play safe!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a successful first visit, Lance is eager to return to the dungeon for a second round of play.

It was early Sunday night, not late enough to go to bed, and Lance was curled on his comforter, barricaded between the wall and a solid line of pillows. Keith was gone, had been for some time, but they had spent the rest of the weekend together, just lazily enjoying each other's company.   
  
Lance was still basking in the afterglow of the scene, almost unnaturally calm and easy going. It surprised him, that it had lasted this long, the still feeling that had settled in his core, but it still made him sleepy and snuggly. It was starting to wear away, now, though, draining easily from his body as he pulled one of the pillows to his chest as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone.   
  
He hadn't paid it much attention since Friday, the scene and the pampering after taking his attention and focus. Not that he was complaining; Keith had doted on him thoroughly, there at his beck and call for all the snacks and kisses he could want. But now it was nice to idly check social media, liking a status here, filtering through his email there.   
  
He was a little startled to see an email informing him that he had received a message on Fetlife. His surprise was warranted; his account went largely neglected. He had filled out his profile and uploaded a photo (just a flirty number of his neck and collarbones, warm and brown in the soft light of his bathroom), but hadn't done much more than poke around the chat rooms. So a message seemed a little odd, and Lance was honestly expecting some sad loser sending a dirty message when he clicked it.   
  
It was a pleasant surprise, instead.   
  
_'Hey! It's Shiro, from Altea. I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were doing. First time subbing can be a challenge, and you did fantastic, but I wanted to make sure you didn't drop or had any negative reactions. If you need anything or have any questions, please let me know. I hope you had a great time.  
Looking forward to seeing you soon.'_    
  
Lance smiled, tickled absolutely pink by the genuine honesty of the message. He turned onto his back to type out a quick answer, his fingers moving rapidly over the keys.   
  
_'Hey!! Sry for the late reply, I've been lazy all weekend..._  
I actually feel rly good?? Super relaxed and a little hazy but it’s wearing off. That’s normal, right??’

He was positive it was, based on what Keith had told him and what they had read, but he still wanted to ask. Shiro was full of information, and it was a bit of an excuse to keep him talking, too. Unable to guarantee that Shiro would answer immediately, Lance put his phone down only to snatch it up again when his message alert sounded.  

_‘Absolutely! You must have had some good aftercare.’_

_‘I rly did… Keith was super attentive. :)))  
I want to come back this weekend, is it ok to do it again so soon??’_

He hadn’t talked it over with Keith yet, but he was very interested in going back to the dungeon to try something new. Hell, even more of the same would be fine with Lance. His backside still ached now and again, but it was more of a delicious little reminder than a hindrance.

_‘Well, maybe not a spanking like that one so soon, but if the two of you are interested in coming back, I think trying something new would be good for you.’_

_‘I wanna come back for sure. You’ll still mentor us, right??’_

_‘If you would like me to.’_

_‘Um, yeah?? You’re awesome and you know a whole heck of a lot and besides, I feel a lot safer with you there. Like. Prodding us in the right direction.’_

Lance hoped he didn’t sound like a complete idiot. But then again, Shiro had already seen his ass. Literally.

_‘I’m glad. I would be more than happy to mentor you again. Maybe start thinking about things you would like to try beforehand, and when the weekend rolls around I can show you how to do a pre scene negotiation.’_

_‘Awesome! Friday again?’_

_‘I’ll request Friday off, just for you.’_

Lance was positive that Shiro meant ‘you’ as in him and Keith, but he still couldn’t help the little flurry of butterflies that worked themselves into a tizzy in his stomach. It was just because Shiro made him feel special, he told himself. But Shiro was older, and handsome, and most likely had a partner of his own. An experienced one, too, probably.

_'I'm not sure what I would want to try next tho??'_  
  
'Well, what did you write down on your negotiation sheet?'  
  
Oh yeah. Lance had almost forgotten about it. He dragged himself off his bed to rifle through the drawer of his desk until he found it, neatly folded. He had written down several things that he wanted to try, but most of them had been covered in the last scene. Spanking, check. Being controlled, check. He had definitely enjoyed it. But as far as something to try...?   
  
His gaze shifted to his soft limits. He hadn't had any that he could think of, so Shiro had suggested that he write down things that he was curious about. Now might be a good time to do some research. Better than homework, definitely.   
  
He pulled out his laptop and settled back into bed, wrapped in a blanket, to log in to Fetlife and search for a group dedicated to the first item on his list.   
  
But scrolling and reading and imagining one scenario after another was a black hole for his focus, and it was late before he realized. In his haste to get to bed to be on time for class, he completely forgot to message Shiro back until the morning. 

_‘I wrote a couple things, and I did some research, but all of them seem rly intense so idk…’_

He wondered, briefly, in his morning coffee induced haze, if Shiro would think any less of him if he thought some things were a little too much. But then again, Shiro had never shamed him, or made fun of him for wanting to take things slowly. Still, Lance checked his messages often throughout the day, even during classes, trying not to feel disappointed when he didn’t find a reply.

When he did get one, though, excitement flooded his chest, energy shooting into his fingertips as he opened the web page.

_‘You don’t have to try something intense your first time around. It’s okay to just dip your feet in to see what you like. Can I ask what kinds of things you were looking at?’_

Lance wondered if anyone in his last class could see the sudden rush of color on his cheeks. He glanced around surreptitiously as he typed a quick reply, less subtle than he might have intended.

_‘Yeah… I was kinda interested in impact play but I guess that’s off limits for now, haha! I was also looking at humiliation and like, pet play… But all I’ve read so far about both is so crazy. Like, I don’t wanna be like, peed on or anything? And with the pet play, people are wearing masks and drinking out of bowls on the floor all day and it all kinda seems more than I wanna do for a first time. Is that bad?’_

He was an idiot to think he would be able to concentrate on his class after that. He made a good show of it, of course, nodding at all the right places and mindlessly copying the power point slides without understanding it at all.

But how could he? His mind swirled with thoughts of that red carpet and the dim lighting of the dungeon, one hand clutching his phone and feeling for a buzz that would signify another message.

He was leaving, trudging out of the door with the rest of his classmates when it finally buzzed.

_‘Yeah, I’m gonna say that heavy impact is off limits for you this time! But you definitely don’t have to start heavy on anything. It’s all up to you and Keith. If you want humiliation to be just words or something, that’s okay. If you want pet play to be just a leash and you crawling next to Keith, that’s perfectly acceptable. The scene is what you make of it, and what works for you.’_

Lance answered tentatively as he walked towards his car in the parking lot, a beat up, blue Toyota that constantly needed new tires but had served him well.

_‘What would you recommend, Shiro?’_

He waited until he was home to check his messages again.

_‘Based on what I saw, and what I know about you two, I think a simple pet play-esque scene would be a good start. You can incorporate collars, which you like, and it can definitely be very praise heavy. Scenes like that are also really good for establishing roles in a dom/sub relationship.’_

Lance thought about it, dropping his book bag and flopping down on his bed, kicking his shoes onto the floor. He had liked the collar, and liked the sensation of being owned. A leash might be nice, too, something for Keith to guide him by, something to keep Lance close. And besides… there was something to be said for the idea of obedience training.

Lance bit his bottom lip, imagining it and recalling the scene from Friday. He sat up, slowly, then stood, padding over to close his bedroom door. A full length mirror hung behind it, and Lance regarded himself in it for a moment. He looked casual enough, long legs in blue jeans and slender torso shown off by a form fitting t-shirt.

He watched himself in the mirror as he moved, languidly popping the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper, tugging the waistband down around his hips. He turned, looking over his shoulder as he pulled down his underwear, baring his ass to the mirror.

His skin was no longer that bright, brilliant red, which was sad, but there was a little tender bruise across the fullest part of his backside, one that he felt every time he sat down. He reached down to grasp one cheek, squeezing to feel the little twinge of pain, the only remnant of the deep throb from Friday. It didn’t truly hurt, but the reminder of the spanking at all made Lance shiver with pleasure. He squeezed again, his lips parting.

When he let go, his flesh was just pink enough, a rosy blush on dusky skin, and Lance tugged his pants and underwear off completely. He snagged his phone as he went into the bathroom, where he managed to take a decent Snapchat of the mark on his ass. He sent it to Keith with the simple caption,

‘Take me back to Altea on Friday?’

***

_KeithK took a screenshot!_

***

“Yeah, we can do that,” Keith said, handing Lance’s phone back to him after reading his and Shiro’s messages.

“Friday okay?”

Keith nodded, taking a sip of his soda. “Yeah, it’ll have to be a little later, though, I work until seven.”

Lance frowned, picking up his sandwich. “You work a lot this week,” he said, trying not to sound as morose as he felt. It was only Tuesday, but he most likely wouldn’t see Keith again until Friday.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re short staffed until Saturday. Then it’ll be back to normal, okay?”

Lance nodded, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully.

“That means that you can’t fuck me until Friday, right?”

He swore Keith was half a second away from spitting out his own bite, and it made him grin.

“That’s exactly what it means,” Keith spluttered, and Lance laughed, nudging his foot gently under the table.

“So you gotta do me real good after we leave Altea.”

Keith huffed, taking another bite and chewing very deliberately in order to avoid answering, but his foot nudged Lance’s back.

***

They showed up later on Friday, while the activities of the club were in full swing. It was loud, bustling with people in various states of dress and undress. Chatter and cries filled the main room where Shiro met them, as welcoming as always. He looked just as tall and intimidating as before, even though he only wore dark jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with the dungeon’s logo.

“I’m backup DM, since we’re busy,” he told them, shaking Keith’s hand in greeting. He offered his hand to Lance, too, who stepped close instead to give Shiro a quick air kiss. “But I’ll be able to spend time with you two.”

“We appreciate it,” Keith said, putting an arm around Lance’s shoulders as he crowded into Keith’s side, eager to start and thrumming with excitement and anticipation.

“Of course,” Shiro said with a smile. “How about you two go ahead and get ready, grab whatever you need to, and meet me back here?”

The pair nodded, sharing a brief kiss before parting. Lance headed for the bathroom to change into the outfit he had worn last time, but Keith lingered. He set down the shopping bag he had brought onto the couch and pulled out his new pair of gloves.

He put them on, slowly, noting each detail. The stiffness of the leather, the sharp smell, the texture against his skin. It helped, to focus on that and let the day and its frustrations melt away.

“Does it help?” Shiro asked, and Keith looked up at him. “Having something to ease the transition.”

“It really does,” Keith answered, tightening and loosening his fists to adjust his hands in the gloves, to help them move as one. “Do you have something?”

Shiro smiled and shook his head. “I used to need something, but the transition is more natural for me now, especially since I work here,” he said. “Although… if Allura needs me to sub for a demonstration, I do need a little while to adjust myself into the headspace. It’s different for everybody.”

“You sub for Allura?” Keith asked curiously, trying to imagine Shiro on his knees like Lance had been last weekend.

Shiro laughed, mirth crinkling his eyes. “People are always surprised. Yes, I sub for her demos when she needs it, but only as an example. We haven’t officially played in a long time.”

“Do you have a partner?” Keith asked, perhaps a little too bluntly, but Shiro didn’t seem bothered.

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I haven’t had a play partner in a little while, since I’ve been a DM. That’s fulfilling enough for me right now.”

“I was surprised, you know,” Keith admitted. “Not seeing you with anyone.”

“How come?” Shiro asked with an amused smile.

Keith shrugged. “You’re a handsome guy. And naturally domineering without being abrasive.”

“Thank you, Keith. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome. So… Do you have any tips for me?”

Shiro’s smile was kind, and he stepped closer to Keith to make their conversation a little more personal and a little more private, all without crowding Keith’s space.

“For tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll walk you two through a pre-scene negotiation,” Shiro said. “But in general, this is going to be a scene that lays the groundwork for your domination over Lance. Use it to shape what kind of relationship you two want from this. If you want to be discipline heavy, do that. If you want to be sweet the whole time, do it. If you want a solid balance, you can do that, too, just stay consistent.”

“I want a balance,” Keith said.

Shiro nodded. “Good. The point of this scene is to take Lance into the space he was in last time, and a little further. So it’s important to remain consistent in your rewards and in your disciplines to avoid confusing him. If your sub becomes confused or afraid, it breaks the trust and communication between you, which can severely damage your scene.”

Keith nodded carefully. It must have been obvious that he was a little overwhelmed, and Shiro placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Have fun with it,” he encouraged. “I’ll be here to help you.”

Lance returned, then, approaching with an armful of his day clothes. The collar they had used last week dangled from his other hand, unassuming yet conspicuous in the way the light struck the stainless steel accents.   
  
He placed his clothes down next to Keith's bag, then approached carefully. It seemed as though he was already feeling the edges of headspace brushing against him in gentle waves, luring him deeper. He held out the collar, offering it and his autonomy to Keith, but Shiro placed a hand in front of him, halting the process.   
  
"In a moment," he said, his voice pitched low and soothing. "Let's negotiate first."   
  
They both nodded, Keith looking sharp and attentive while Lance looked a little chagrined.   
  
"Tell me the parameters of your scene."   
  
Surprisingly, Lance answered, his voice steady and sure despite the pull of submission.   
  
"Simple pet play scene. I get a collar and a leash, and we're going to do a few commands. Just to try it out. No bowl on the floor, or puppy names, or muzzles or anything."   
  
"Good," Shiro offered, impressed that they had talked it over already. Lance perked up at the praise, his cheeks glowing with a delicate flush. "Keith, have you talked about rewards and discipline yet?"   
  
Keith nodded, thoughtful. "Just a little. Discipline only happens when Lance disobeys an order. I thought it could just be a smack on his ass. And uh, rewards happen when he does something well."   
  
Shiro glanced between the two. Lance watched Keith eagerly, his eyes dark with trust. He was eager to participate, even with the vague parameters.   
  
"What do you think, Lance?" Shiro asked, making those blue eyes snap to him. "Do you think getting a smack would be enough to really punish you?"   
  
Lance paused, thinking. He was an open book, each thought passing honestly over his face. Excitement at the memory of the spanking, realization that just a swat in itself wouldn't be enough to make him truly remorseful of any misdeed. He pouted a little.   
  
"Yes, but it would be because I had disappointed him.” 

Shiro nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced, but said nothing in opposition. “What else?”

“Lance isn’t allowed to speak during the scene,” Keith said. “Except to safeword. He can make noise, but he can’t articulate.”

“Do you agree to this, Lance?”

Lance nodded, a wild little grin on his face. He was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, electric energy nearly sparking on the surface of his skin.   
  
"Tell me your safewords," Shiro said, knowing when to continue, stepping back from the pair and out of the immediate scene.   
  
"Green for more," Lance answered, his voice soft and his mouth dry. "Yellow for pause. Red for stop now."   
  
"I'll use the same ones," Keith said in response, and Shiro nodded in approval.   
  
"Anyone have questions before you start? Concerns?"   
  
The pair shook their heads.   
  
"Then let's begin." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone-  
> Thank you so much for being patient. I was previously on a weekly update schedule, but in the middle of holiday travels, I dealt with a devastating family tragedy. I am hoping to pick back up where I left off as far as updating regularly, but if there are small delays, I hope you will bear with me just as patiently as you have thus far. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying my work so far, and here's to a good year! Remember to always play safe. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No scene is ever constant, and the boys learn more about their relationship and themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't been able to respond to anyone individually, but thank you all for your kind words and support! Being able to write for you all and knowing that you enjoy it has definitely been helping me. 
> 
> Enjoy...! <3

The collar suited Lance. Wide enough to accent and elongate his already slim neck, it encouraged him to hold his head high. When he knelt, it was with grace, long limbs sweeping gently to the floor. He crawled forward tentatively, rubbing his shoulder against Keith’s leg.

Keith reached down to ruffle his hair, a warm chestnut that was beginning to curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck. Shiro stood off to the side, watchful as Keith grabbed the bag he had brought. He pulled out a leash, brand new, a long, polished length of delicate stainless steel chain.

Lance swallowed, thrilled and nervous, but tipped his chin up, enticing, showing off the ring attached to the front of his collar. Perfect for a leash to be clasped onto, and the metallic click of Keith doing just that made the space between Lance’s hips turn molten.

He turned his head, just to hear the sound of the chain, to feel the weight as the slack swung beneath his chin. He gazed up at Keith, tall and dark, the chain fisted in one hand, stark against the black leather of his glove. Despite the imposition of his figure, his hair fell in a soft frame around his face, and his eyes were not unkind. Lance’s chest swelled with trust.

“Come,” Keith murmured, pulling to shorten the length of chain between them. It went taut, but not enough to choke Lance, something he felt a soft tendril of gratitude for. He was being allowed the opportunity to obey, and he took it eagerly, crawling at Keith’s side as he walked.

Shiro walked next to them, just casually observing, noting Keith's speed and Lance's form as they walked along one side of the room, simply feeling out their own headspaces and roles.   
  
They stopped at the far wall, then turned around to make their way back, unhurried, to the couch that had quickly become their home base.   
  
"What a sweet boy!" A voice exclaimed, bright and feminine and tinged with a bit of an accent. Lance recognized the voice as Allura's, and her shoes, black heels polished to a brilliant shine, could be none other than a domme's. But Lance dared not look higher than his current eye level, which was to her approximate mid-thigh.   
  
"He is," Keith answered, affection bleeding into his voice, and Lance leaned against his leg to show that he returned it.   
  
"His first time?" Allura asked sweetly, and Keith must have nodded, because Allura continued to speak. "How delightful! May I pet him?"   
  
And she, too, just like Shiro and Keith had a tendency to do, spoke over him as if he had no say in the matter at all.   
  
But he didn't. He was a pet now, and everything that was his was ultimately Keith's, to decide to do with what he chose.   
  
"You may," he said, and Lance looked up as she crouched in front of him.   
  
She was just as gorgeous as he remembered, but there was something in her eyes and the set of her features that allowed absolutely no disobedience.   
  
He imagined what her voice would sound like when giving an order, and what she might demand of a submissive. Something about the set of her mouth, despite her smile, made Lance think that she would be firm, unrelenting, that she would reduce him to nothing more than a speck beneath her shoe if given the opportunity.  But her hand was gentle as she stroked his hair and pat his cheek, and he nuzzled his face into her palm to show that he appreciated it. Her. Both.   
  
She laughed, and when she stood, Lance felt both relieved and slightly disappointed.   
  
"He has a lot of promise," Allura said to Keith. "Keep up the good work!"   
  
If the sentiment was to him or Keith, Lance couldn't tell, but she was gone before either could ask.   
  
"That's high praise," Shiro's voice came, threaded with impressed pride. "She's a skilled domme. You might have the opportunity to play with her in the future, if you're interested."   
  
Keith didn't respond immediately, but when he did, it was with a tightly confused tone.   
  
"Lance and I are in a relationship."   
  
It was firm and booked no argument, and to hear the possession in the undercurrent of his words made Lance want to roll onto his belly and completely bare himself to Keith.   
  
"I know," Shiro answered, grave enough to echo Keith's seriousness while airy enough to show he meant no harm. "Since not all play involves sex, some monogamous couples will engage in play with others."   
  
"Is that common?" Keith asked, and Lance rubbed his face into Keith's thigh to hide his smile.   
  
"Oh, definitely," Shiro said, immensely patient. "You allowed me to play in your scene last week."   
  
"Oh," Keith said, reaching down to absently pet Lance's hair. "I didn't think of that."   
  
"That's perfectly okay," Shiro soothed. "Some couples like to play only with each other. But it's normal and accepted to include others, even if it's just in parts."   
  
It was quiet for a moment, as if Keith was thinking it over. He often had a one track mind, and would get lost thinking if Lance didn't bring him back to the present, so he began to crawl forward, drawing attention to himself.   
  
Keith and Shiro both chuckled, and Keith stepped forward to catch up.   
  
"Someone was feeling neglected," Shiro said as they approached the couch. "He's been very good so far, though."   
  
"I think so," Keith agreed, and Lance beamed, watching Keith carefully, adoringly, as he reached into his bag.   
  
"Did you bring him any treats?" Shiro asked, as casually as one would ask the same about a dog, and a hot embarrassment began to bloom in Lance's stomach.   
  
"No," Keith said, glancing up at Shiro. "Should I have?"   
  
"I just wondered how you planned on rewarding such good behavior."   
  
Keith gnawed on his bottom lip, glancing at his lover. "I was just going to praise him," he admitted. "Treats would have been a good idea."   
  
Shiro laughed, a quiet, amused sound, and both Keith and Lance looked at him just in time to see him pull a little plastic bag of shortbread cookies from his back pocket.   
  
"Just in case," he said, taking a cookie from the bag and breaking it in half. He handed it to Keith, who gazed at Shiro, bewildered, before offering it to Lance. 

It wasn’t uncommon, to eat from the hand of one’s lover. But this was different, somehow, and the sight of half of a cookie sitting in the middle of Keith’s palm made shame flood Lance’s cheeks, acute and sharp in its sudden vigor.

He turned his head away.

“You don’t want it?” Keith prompted, pushing his hand closer. Lance turned his head further away, and it was only until Keith held the cookie between two fingers that he took it delicately between his teeth, careful not to touch Keith’s fingers with his lips.

He chewed slowly, a flush spreading across his cheeks, but the sweetness settled his nerves. He accepted Keith’s hand ruffling his hair, even turning his head up into it as Keith spoke.

“Wanna try something fun?”

Lance glanced up at him quizzically, but nodded, watching with open curiosity as Keith returned to the couch and pulled a brand new dog toy from his bag. About the length of Lance’s hand, it was bright blue and shaped like a bone. Keith sat on the couch and beckoned to Lance, despite the leash.

“I took it out of the package to wash it,” he said, holding it up for Lance to see. It was made of latex, and still smelled slightly of it, but it seemed clean, as Keith had promised.

Lance raised an eyebrow at Keith, as if to ask, ‘what do you want me to do with this?’

“Bring it back when I throw it,” he said, and proceeded to toss the toy a couple of feet beyond them, where it bounced onto the floor with a pathetic squeak.

Lance glanced at it, then at Keith. He wanted Lance to crawl across the floor after a toy and bring it back? Presumably in his mouth? To play fetch for what, another half of a cookie? Getting his ass smacked seemed like a far more tempting option at the moment, so Lance sat primly on his haunches and looked away.

“Lance.”

Lance ignored Keith in favor of watching the other couples in the room. He spotted Allura, briefly, and even Hunk, who was speaking lowly to a lovely dark skinned girl with wide shoulders and a sweet face. He held a flogger in his hand, the thongs nearly brushing the floor and swaying with his every subtle movement. That looked far more tempting than this pathetic game of fetch; the threat of actual punishment, the desire to please. As much as he had been excited to engage in this scene at the beginning, now he was beginning to feel bored.

“Lance!”

He turned his head lazily to Keith, who had gone red in the face. He was annoyed, Lance could tell, and he was clenching his teeth tight. Lance knew this look. He was frustrated, but he wasn’t going to do anything substantial about it. And sure enough, Keith stood, but took no action to punish Lance for his disobedience. Disappointing.

Lance turned away again, blue eyes shifting over the crowd to find someone else to watch, or something else to suggest.

“Shiro,” he heard Keith’s voice call, frustration twisting his tone.

“He doesn’t take you seriously.”

“What do I do?”

“Take a breath first,” Shiro reminded Keith, a near fondness in his voice. “You have to give him a solid reason to obey you.”

“How?” Keith said angrily, his temper beginning to unravel. “We talked about how it’s going to go and what would happen, he’s just not cooperating!”

Lance sniffed indignantly at the accusation, turning and opening his mouth to make a comeback, but Shiro spoke first.

“He’s testing the limits of his submission. He’s testing you.”

Lance closed his mouth, his eyes drifting to Keith and the solid downward twist of his mouth. He wavered. He had wanted a solid response, that was all, to quell the simmering desire in his belly to be really taken over, instead of playing with the same arrogant false confidence that Keith usually relied on.

“This can happen. Many subs find they act a certain way or want certain things once in their headspaces,” Shiro continued. “He’s looking for a response from you. It’s your responsibility to guide him.”

Keith took a deep breath, and held it. He let it out slowly, studying the floor for a moment before looking to Shiro, his expression still twisted with frustration and his eyes slightly pained.

“I’m worried,” he began haltingly. “That if I respond right now, I won’t be able to keep myself from reacting with anger.”

“Okay,” Shiro said calmly. “That’s a responsible choice to make. You can end the scene here, and try again later.”

Keith shook his head, though, and Shiro and Lance both studied him skeptically. “I just need a minute,” he said, looking up at Shiro with an expression that ever so mildly begged for palliation. “Could you continue with him? Just until I can even out?”

Startled and intrigued, Lance glanced up at Shiro. He stood tall, solid, a pillar of ideals, and his eyes were focused with criticizing clarity on Keith. He was thinking, calculating, and the gentle smile on his face was long gone.

“You want me to take over your scene while you take a moment?” He asked, not accusatory, but seeking confirmation.

Keith bowed his head. “Yes.”

“Lance.”

Lance immediately straightened at the tone.

“Are you okay with this?”

He nodded, quickly, and Shiro turned back to Keith. “Then do what you need to do for yourself, and when you’re ready to join in again, tell me and I’ll ease you in. Alright?”

Keith nodded, immensely grateful. He sat back on the couch, tugging his gloves off and closing his eyes to take a breath.

Lance envied his relaxation.

Because Shiro had turned to him, all physical strength and the absolute expectation of respect. “The rules previously laid out by you and Keith will apply to us as well. If you have no objections, and wish to begin, tell me your safeword.”

“It’s green,” Lance breathed.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“No.”

For a brief moment, Lance saw an odd expression cross Shiro’s face, and he couldn’t help the distinct feeling that he had failed a test.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” he said instead, and Lance was half a moment away from protesting. Shiro had asked him a question, after all!

But his strides were long, and his approach was nigh instantaneous, a firm hand gripping the back of Lance’s collar and hauling him forward. He threw his hands out to catch himself, having no choice but to allow his body to be dragged onto all fours.

He was still reeling from the sudden movement, his mind struggling to catch up, when Shiro’s hand (intimately familiar) came down in a harsh slap on his ass.

It wasn’t nearly as gentle as the sensuous warm up Lance had received the week prior; he would dare say that this hit had been harder than any he had taken previously, and he cried out with the sudden pain that exploded across his backside.

“I seem to recall your master giving you an order,” Shiro said calmly, and Lance struggled to swallow around the dry lump in his throat. Master. Who was his master, Keith? Or Shiro? He would have taken either, or both, at that moment.

Shiro released his grip on the collar, unclipping the leash, too, and straightened, his gaze turning to the blue toy that sat so innocently on the floor. Lance looked to it, too, his ass smarting and his world shaken.

Shiro wasn’t Keith, that much had become painfully clear. Shiro wouldn’t hesitate to deal out an unforgiving punishment for misdeeds, regardless of how friendly they were outside of the scene.

He wondered, for a moment, if the punishment would continue to a point that he couldn’t handle, if Shiro would be cruel to him. But he had his safewords, three distinct shields that he could use to protect himself if he needed to.

The toy looked so small on the floor.

Lance also wondered, as Shiro nudged his leg with a boot, if his rewards would be just as intense as his punishment. His flesh throbbed.

He wanted to know.

Lance crawled forward hesitantly, his metaphorical tail between his legs, approaching the toy as if it would bite.

He glanced back at Shiro, who encouraging him with a simple nod of his head, the chain of the leash wrapped tight around his fist. His boots were planted shoulder width apart. He crossed his arms over his chest expectantly.

Lance turned back to the toy, bending his head hesitantly. He took it in his mouth, tasting latex, and he screwed his eyes shut. A red hot flush swept through his body, igniting in his cheeks when Shiro spoke.

“Bring it here.”

He said it not with unkindness, and Lance found himself crawling back to Shiro as if to safety. Shiro knelt as he approached, and took the toy from him with a smile so brilliant, Lance felt blinded. A warm hand ruffled his hair and rubbed his shoulders and back, and as Lance licked the taste of new rubber from his lips, he thought that it hadn’t been so terrible.

“Good boy,” Shiro praised, genuine and honest. “You want to be good, huh?”

Lance nodded shyly, a shiver making gooseflesh rise on his arms at the feel of Shiro’s overwarm hand on his skin.

“Can you show me?” He asked sweetly, tossing the toy to the side. It landed a few feet away from Keith, who watched it with just as much rapture as Lance did.

He glanced at Keith, who gave him a small nod, encouraging. Lance bowed his head, then, and crawled after the toy, taking it again into his mouth and delivering it to Shiro’s palm.

“So obedient,” Shiro murmured, petting the side of his face and arranging his hair. It was growing a little too long, but it felt good when Shiro ran his hand through it, and Lance closed his eyes with pleasure.

“I know you don’t like your toy, even though Keith went through the trouble to get it for you,” Shiro said, each word a calculated experiment, his eyes watching for each reaction. “How about we set it aside, and we see what kind of training you have.”

Lance shuddered so hard, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Shiro saw it. He was achingly hard, now, his desire a heavy weight between his legs.

Shiro stood, stepping back and circling Lance.

“Sit,” he ordered, and Lance settled back on his haunches almost immediately. The action drew his underwear tight across his groin, and he whimpered, a nearly inaudible sound.

“Good boy,” Shiro said, continuing his slow circle around Lance. “Roll over.”

Lance obeyed, turning onto his back on the floor, baring his stomach and showing off the tightness in his underwear for him and Keith and any passerby to see. Shiro smiled, a devious little thing, so unlike and yet so akin to his usual kind expression.

“Sit pretty, Lance,” he said, his deep voice an irresistible lure, and Lance gingerly rolled over to kneel up. He even placed his hands up to his chest, like a dog might with his paws, even though it made his cheeks burn.

Shiro hummed, thoughtfully, his hand coming to leisurely pet Lance’s hair for a moment.

“Lance,” he said, stopping in front of him. Lance was face to face with Shiro’s crotch, and while he couldn’t tell what his mentor’s own state of arousal was, he was tempted to bury his face there anyway. To inhale to musk, to feel owned and used, despite that fact that his real master, his boyfriend, was not five feet away.

He swallowed heavily.

“Lance,” Shiro repeated, and Lance glanced up at him with lucid blue eyes, attentive and eager to please.

“Beg.”

His breath hitched. He ached between his legs, his throat was dry, and his head swam with anticipation and desire and a submissive haze.

“Please,” he whispered, and Shiro smiled at him.

“Naughty thing,” he said, lightly shoving Lance’s head away. “You aren’t allowed to speak.”

Embarrassment suddenly twisted in Lance’s gut, but Shiro didn’t seem angry. “Get down,” he said, and Lance returned to all fours, slowly, waiting on edge for his next command.

“Present.”

Lance swore that electricity shot directly into his gut. He whined, softly, spreading his knees and arching his back, showing off his ass. He knew he looked good, he knew that at least Keith would find him attractive; in a bold move, he reached behind himself to gently spread his cheeks apart, sexually alluring even despite the fabric covering any actual view.

Shiro whistled, a long, low sound to denote how impressed he was. Lance watched from his periphery as Shiro’s boots circled him, then went to the couch. He sat beside Keith, placing the coiled leash to the side, then beckoned to Lance.

“Come here,” he said, and Lance crawled to him, sitting carefully in between his parted knees. Shiro ruffled his hair, then reached down to the little bag from earlier. He pulled out the other half of the cookie, holding it in the middle of his palm as he offered it to Lance.

At least Keith had been kind, and held it out to him by his fingers.

Lance ducked his head, taking the treat from Shiro’s hand and delicately licking his fingertips with a soft tongue as he nudged his cheek into his palm.

Shiro laughed fondly, stroking his cheek and petting his hair, and if he didn’t think too hard about it, Lance could easily forget that he was really a person, and not just something for Shiro to enjoy.

“Keith,” Shiro murmured, scratching with the pads of his fingers behind Lance’s ear. “Would you like to rejoin?”

“Yes,” Keith said, sitting up straighter and angling his body to them.

“Then I suppose Lance is all yours.”

The statement made something in Lance stir, and while he immediately mourned the loss of Shiro’s hand, Keith’s soon replaced it. He combed through brown locks with a gloved hand, gently, a bemused look on his face.

“You were so good for Shiro, Lance,” he said, and Lance smiled, turning his face into Keith’s hand to smell the leather. “You followed every order he gave you.”

Lance nodded, pride swelling a little in his chest. He had been good.

“Will you obey an order for me, too?”

Lance nodded again, willing now, despite his earlier resistance. He marveled a little at how quickly he had turned pliant under a punishing hand and the firm expectation of good behavior.

Keith’s smile was subtle, an expression that reached his eyes more than his mouth, and a leather clad finger tipped Lance’s chin up.

“Bark.”

Lance immediately balked a little at the order, glancing between Keith’s stoicism and Shiro’s impassibility. He gnawed on his lip, still tasting the subtle sweetness of the treat Shiro had given him. He wanted to follow orders, he found that he enjoyed it, but… Was he willing to make the idea of himself being a pet real by barking, of all things?

He shuffled closer to Keith, bending forward to brace his hands on Keith’s knees and hide his face in his lap. He could feel, as well as hear, Keith laugh, his hand carding through the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

“Come on,” Keith murmured, his voice deeper than usual.

Lance shivered. He knew that voice, that tone, a timbre that he only ever heard in bed, when Keith’s skin was hot, his hair wild, when he kissed with a ferocity that scorched Lance through. ‘Come on,’ he would say from his position against the bed, relaxed and prone whilst Lance rode him with trembling thighs, his hands curling futilely against Keith’s sweat slick abs.

He whined into Keith’s lap, a distraught sound borne from embarrassment and desire and the unwillingness to break the rules of the scene by speaking.

Keith laughed again, his hand curling more firmly into his hair. Just like Shiro had taught him to, tight without causing pain, and he gently drew Lance’s head up to meet his eyes. They were dark with his renewed confidence, hooded and framed with short lashes, and Lance held his gaze despite the urge to lower his own eyes in deference.

Keith shifted, his boot easing forward to brush against the inside of Lance’s thigh, and Lance’s lips parted with a silent gasp. His boots were softer than Shiro’s, worn from use and riding his motorcycle, and the touch of leather against his bare skin made him realize just how starved he was in the moment. The petting was nice, but he wanted more, an escalation of firmness and direction, easing from foreplay into something more. His erection strained in his underwear, now far too tight, and even the suggestion of touch made him turn to liquid in Keith’s lap.

“I’ll reward you,” Keith promised darkly, his boot easing forward even more, until the toe was just brushing up against Lance’s cock. “I’ll forget all about how you disobeyed me earlier, and you’ll get a treat better than what Shiro gave you. Just bark for me.”

Lance whimpered, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He wanted it, that much was obvious. But Keith had the advantage of knowing just how insatiable Lance could be when it came to pleasures of the flesh, and to tempt him with that rather than the promise of a hair ruffle or a cookie was a guarantee that he would get his way.

Lance gripped Keith’s knees, holding on for support as he rolled his hips against Keith’s boot. He got no contact other than a light brush, but it still made him shiver and tilt his head back into the grip Keith still held on his hair.

He took a steadying breath, soothed as Keith’s hand drifted from his hair to tug on the wide collar that encircled his throat, and Lance opened his mouth to bark.

It was a higher sound than he wanted, but it was solid and strong; he didn’t want to risk having to do it again if Keith wasn’t satisfied. Still, his cheeks burned furiously, but pride ballooned in his chest at the expression on Keith’s face.

He hadn’t thought Lance would actually do it that well.

The expression shifted from mild surprise to downright salaciousness, and Lance immediately felt the rough, solid contact of Keith’s boot pressing in between his legs. He cried out, overwhelmed with the sudden touch after nothing but liminal brushes, his hands curling into the material of Keith’s pants. His hips began to roll of their own accord, dragging his trapped cock against Keith’s leg. The feel of the boot laces was too much, sensation on the verge of discomfort, so Lance shifted, tilting his hips so that he could grind against smooth leather instead.

“I was going to call you a good boy,” Keith murmured. “But I don’t know if you are at all.”

He smiled a little at Lance’s responding frown, tugging at his collar.

“You’re humping my leg like a dog, like you have no inhibitions to keep you from rubbing off in public whenever you feel like it,” he pointed out, and Lance whined again, burying his face in Keith’s lap like he had before.

“While you’re down there,” he said, just as Lance began to notice the distinct scent of heat and arousal from between his legs. “Make yourself useful.”

Lance exhaled, heated just from the idea of getting to blow Keith again. He leaned heavily against Keith’s leg, braced on his knees, rolling his hips steadily as he worked open Keith’s pants with his hands. He glanced up at Keith through his lashes, making sure that Keith could see the pink of his tongue as he licked his lips.

Keith huffed, shoving his head down a little to encourage him to get on with it, and Lance gave a little laugh. He didn’t complain, though, just continued, dragging down Keith’s zipper and easing the black underwear down as much as he could in the tight space he was given.

It was an awkward position, especially with Lance still grinding against Keith; Lance had to drape himself over Keith’s thigh and brace one hand on the couch on the other side of Keith’s hips. But it also meant that he got to feel Keith in his mouth, the head heavy on his tongue. He got to feel the muscles of Keith’s thigh against his stomach, and the firmness of his leg below the knee, sculpted and perfect as he rocked against it.

The pleasure was dry, the friction rougher than he was used to, but it sent sparks like firecrackers into his belly, and Lance moaned around Keith, his mouth dropping open just a little. He felt Keith’s hand in his hair again, stroking through it and down, to run his palm against the back of his neck. It was an appreciative touch, not controlling, and Lance let his eyes slip closed. He made his lips a tight ring, drawing his head back and forth, his tongue rubbing the spot beneath the glans in the way he knew drove Keith crazy. Lance was rewarded with a breathy exhale, a heavy sound that betrayed just how turned on Keith was. Lance hummed, rocking his hips slowly, lasciviously, hoping to please both his dom and their audience.

Speaking of which…

Lance pulled off to turn his head, suckling against the side of Keith’s cock and using the angle to glance at Shiro.

He sat near them, still, watching with hooded eyes and an interest that strayed far beyond that of just a mentor. His eyes flicked between the pair, taking in the way that Lance, half bared, was splayed across Keith, each movement of both is hips and mouth sensuous and skilled. He admired Keith, the lightning quick learner who now sat with his lips parted, his eyes fevered, and a pretty head in his lap.

He wondered how long it had been for Shiro.

Lance quickly turned back to his task before he was caught, not wanting to ruin the moment. He wriggled his hips against Keith’s leg, whining for attention and relaxing his throat to show Keith that he could take whatever he wanted.

He did, assured and unfazed by any passersby as he maneuvered Lance’s head to where he wanted it, his hands sinking back into his hair to drag Lance down, fucking his mouth with a furious abandon.

Lance whimpered around the rough treatment, but didn’t protest. He simply went boneless, letting Keith use him and rutting against him like a dog might against his master.

He supposed that’s what they were.

Tears pricked at his eyes as Keith drove particularly deep, but he didn’t choke. His gag reflex had been minimal to begin with, and even now, his throat just fluttered helplessly against the thickness of the intrusion.

The bitter salt taste of pre come invaded his senses and coated his tongue, and the dirty feeling of it just made Lance roll his hips harder as he tightened the muscle of his tongue, making it firmer and forcing it to rub that much more firmly against the underside of Keith’s cock.

That’s what did it, it seemed, and the rush of come against the back of his throat was unexpected. He gagged on it, making a harsh sound but breathing heavily through his nose so he wouldn’t have to pull off for even a moment as Keith’s orgasm pulsed into his mouth.

Keith’s hips stilled and his hands relaxed, exhaling with the relief of release, even as Lance’s own pace grew more frenetic. He let Keith’s softening cock slip from his mouth, pressing tiny, desperate kisses to it as he rocked. Keith made a soothing sound, his hands stroking Lance’s hair yet again, and Lance whimpered.

He wanted it so badly. The friction was almost painful, now, but he didn’t want to stop. His hips snapped forward, his poor knees smarting with the feeling of being crushed into the stiff carpet. He grasped handfuls of Keith’s shirt, hanging his head and panting, just on the verge of begging.

But then Keith shifted his leg, tilting it just so, and that was it.

Several more needy thrusts and Lance was finished, crying out into Keith’s lap and coming in his underwear just from humping something, an act he hadn’t gotten off on since he was young.

Keith hushed him, murmuring nonsensical nothings to him as he came down, sagging against his lover and taking several deep, steadying breaths.

“The scene is over, I think,” Keith said, his voice still firm, but with an edge of sweetness. “You can talk now, Lance. Come sit on the couch with me.”

Lance obeyed, crawling up between Keith and Shiro and settling against Keith, who put an arm around him. His underwear was going to be a mess, and he wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up, but for now he just let the sounds of the dungeon wash over him, his mind hazy with submission and orgasm.

He extended his legs to drape them over Shiro’s lap, unblinking eyes staring at the angry red carpet burn on his knees. Shiro placed a warm hand on his ankle and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Shiro,” Keith said, a twinge of guilt seeping into his voice. “For taking over. I didn’t want to ruin the scene, but I didn’t want to act out of anger, either.”

“It was responsible of you to make that choice,” Shiro said. “Not many could make it. Did you get a chance to figure out why you were so angry?”

Keith thought for a moment, then turned his head to press a sweet kiss to Lance’s hair. “I was having a hard time differentiating between how I would treat Lance normally, and how I would treat him in a scene. I wouldn’t ever hit him in real life if he did or didn’t do something I didn’t like.”

Shiro nodded, understanding in the lines of his expression. “Couples often have that problem when they enter into a scene together. But you also have to remember that this is something you’ve agreed upon and talked about, and there are safeties in place in case one of you crosses a line.”

“I understand that. I guess I should trust it more.”

“It won’t all happen at once. Just keep moving forward and remember that patience yields focus.”

The conversation lulled as both Keith and Lance considered Shiro’s statement. Besides that, Lance knew that he himself was suddenly exhausted, and he was more than willing to doze in between them while they talked.

“Lance,” Shiro said, and Lance whined as he opened his eyes. Shiro chuckled. “Wake up. What did you think of the scene?”

Lance hummed, snuggling back into Keith a little more. “I like being ordered around. I like being rewarded when I’m good,” he said. “But… I’m not so sure about the dog thing.”

“What part didn’t you like?”

“I don’t really like eating out of your hands,” he admitted. “Or fetching. Barking was only okay because I got to suck Keith’s dick afterwards.” That earned a small sound of amusement from Keith, which made him smile. “But I really liked having rules and expectations and orders to follow. Those were good.”

“There are definitely options for scenes that emphasize those aspects more,” Shiro said, giving Lance’s ankle another squeeze. “But you gave this a try, and I’m proud of the both of you.”

The feeling was warm between the three of them, easy and comfortable. But Lance felt his own smile fade as Shiro’s did, his eyes darkening just a little.

“However,” he began slowly. “There is something-“

“Shiro!”

Allura’s voice rang out as she approached, placing her hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I hate to interrupt. But Coran is busy at the moment, and I need you to check on a couple in one of the other rooms,” she said, worry threading her tone. “The submissive just looks a little too unresponsive, but you have a better eye for that than I do.”

Shiro nodded, gathering Lance’s ankles in his hands and depositing them gently onto the couch. He stood, almost reluctantly, and smiled down at them.

“If I don’t see you two again tonight, let’s talk later,” he said warmly. “Maybe lunch.”

“Bye, Shiro,” Lance mumbled, desperately not wanting him to go. But he was leaving, anyway, walking briskly next to Allura as they spoke quickly, the concern for safety making his long strides all the more powerful.

“It’s weird for him to be gone,” Lance said, turning to Keith, who gave him a brief, tender kiss.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his hands coming up to unbuckle Lance’s collar. “But he’s got a job to do. C’mon, let’s go home.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Experience is not a replacement for decency and care for safety.

“Did you really like the scene?” Keith asked thoughtfully, late on a Sunday night.

Lance squirmed, his legs shifting just a little. Keith’s fingers were a little too deep for him to be thinking rationally, and he said as much, complaint laced in his voice.

“Is that a no?” Keith asked, glancing up at him with a slight frown. Even so, his fingers didn’t pause their slow exploration of Lance’s insides, and he had to take a deep, gulping breath to steady himself enough to actually answer.

“Yes, I liked it!” He said, long fingers gripping handfuls of the bedding. “We talked about it, didn’t we?”

“Yeah…” Keith still looked thoughtful, half lost in his own thoughts even as he slowly drove Lance crazy with the drag of his fingers and the laziness of his pace. His hips tilted up, needy, but they stilled when Keith spoke again. “I just want you to have a good time.”

“I do,” Lance murmured, propping himself up on his elbows and shifting his focus to Keith’s needs instead. “I have a good time. Even if I don’t like one thing in particular. You put in a lot of effort and I love that.”

Keith didn’t look convinced.

“Come here.”

Keith pulled his fingers away gently, then crawled up Lance’s body and into his arms to kiss him. Lance hummed with delight, his arms locked around Keith’s neck to keep him close.

“I want to keep trying things with you.”

“I keep having to ask Shiro to help me,” Keith mumbled, nearly in Lance’s ear. His breath tickled, and Lance smiled, holding him that much closer.

“So?” He asked gently. “I like Shiro. He does a good job. You trust him, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“So… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Lance frowned a little, studying the ceiling from over Keith’s shoulder. “Do you not like sharing me?”

“It’s not that.” Keith sounded petulant, his mumble grumpy and unsure. “I didn’t want you to feel like I was just. Passing you off.”

“What?” Lance exclaimed, pushing Keith away just enough to see his face. He tugged on a lock of Keith’s hair, perhaps a little harder than he meant to in his surprise. “Your dumb hair is too long, it’s blocking your brain. I don’t feel like that at all!”

Keith scowled.

“I’m serious!” Lance continued. “I trust Shiro, too. And I know you aren’t passing me off. Last time, you needed a minute, and I would rather quit the scene than you be miserable in it. Jeez.”

The scowl didn’t shift, but Keith kissed him again, a soft expression of feeling that he couldn’t quite verbalize. Lance ran his hands up Keith’s back, soothing, appreciative.

“But you know,” Lance whispered, his tone turned teasing as he wrapped long legs around Keith’s waist. “You could pass me off if you wanted to.”

Keith looked at him askance, an eyebrow raised and his tone dry. “Would you want that?”

Lance wriggled a little under Keith, looking up at him coyly from under his lashes. “Maybe. If you were watching me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Lance grinned, that familiar, submissive little thrill shooting through his stomach. He dragged Keith down again for a solid, passionate volley of kisses, letting up only when Keith’s message alert sounded from his phone.

“It’s going to wait,” he said, even though he knew Keith wouldn’t answer anyway. “Until you’re done fucking me.”

Keith cursed softly, a vehement huff of breath, reaching between them to line himself up, smirking a little at Lance’s shudder, at the way his thighs parted even further. The initial press was slow, easy, but it still drove Lance’s blunt nails into Keith’s shoulders, leaving little indents, small indicators by which to remember just how good Lance sounded while getting fucked.

***

The message read:

_‘Hey! I feel like we got cut off at the end on Friday, and I wanted to check in on you and Lance. I trust that the two of you talked some more about your experience, but if you have any questions or need anything from me, please don’t hesitate to ask._

_There was also something else I wanted to talk to the two of you about. Preferably before the next scene you plan on engaging in. We can get lunch or coffee, if you like, but if it would be more comfortable to talk at Altea, I am more than willing to meet there, too._

_Thanks,  
Shiro’_

His phone number was attached at the bottom of the message.

Lance hummed, looking over Keith’s shoulder at the message. He reached for his own phone to check Fetlife, his fingers moving nimbly over the screen as Keith re-read the message, his eyes shifting back and forth over the words.

“I have a similar message,” Lance said, sitting down beside Keith and snuggling close to his side and planting a solid kiss on Keith’s cheek. “But hey. We got his number.”

Keith didn’t seem placated. “What do you think he wants to talk to us about?” He asked, a small frown turning his features.

“Dunno,” Lance said, wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Maybe he’s got more suggestions for us?”

Keith shrugged a shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” Lance said softly, his voice going smooth. “Let’s have lunch with him somewhere. It’ll be nice. If there was a big problem, he would have said.”

“Okay,” Keith submitted to the comfort, letting himself relax a little into Lance’s side. “I’ll message him back.”

“Cool. You know my schedule.”

Keith hummed, turning his face absently towards Lance. Lance smiled, knowing what he was asking for, and closed the gap between them to give Keith a sweet, rewarding kiss.

***

They decided on early afternoon, in between Lance’s morning and evening classes. It was a time when he usually did homework, but he was perfectly willing to put it off if it meant riding on the back of Keith’s motorcycle to see their mentor in the middle of the day.

Shiro was waiting for them outside, looking almost too normal in jeans and a bomber jacket over a t-shirt. His Converses gave no hint whatsoever to the slick leather boots he favored in the dungeon, and his demeanor was pleasant, his smile disarming. Had Lance seen him on the street, he would have looked twice, but never would have expected such firm domination from such a sweet guy.

But nothing was impossible, really.

Shiro greeted them fondly, and Lance went in to lightly kiss the air beside his cheek. It was a habit that was hard to break, something ingrained in his family, and as long as the recipient didn’t mind it, Lance was more than willing to embrace the subtle feeling of intimacy it gave.

Keith, however, was always a little more reserved in regard to his affection, and he simply smiled when Shiro clapped him on the shoulder.

“Ready?” He asked, turning to hold open the door.

They had chosen a casual place with a variety of options, mostly bar food, but the atmosphere was comfortable and their table was tucked towards the back, a good distance from anyone else who might be interested in eavesdropping. Lance squeezed into the booth next to Keith, nudging him gently with his foot as they browsed the laminated, albeit slightly sticky, menu.

Their waitress was a sweet girl, attentive during the slow hour with not much else to do. She was quick to bring drinks and return for their order, and the three of them made small talk until she disappeared into the kitchen.

“So,” Lance started, deciding to be the one to break the thin layer of ice that had begun to build in anticipation of the conversation. “What did you want to talk to us about?”

Shiro cleared his throat, not uncomfortably, but he began speaking with a sheepish expression. “First, I wanted to check in on you guys. I got pulled away suddenly and I didn’t want either of you to feel like I ditched you.”

“Not at all,” Lance said, waving his hand with an air of nonchalance. “Allura said it was important. Is the couple okay?”

Shiro nodded, and Lance wondered if he was imagining the relieved look in his eyes. “Just a little blood sugar drop. Nothing some juice and some good down time didn’t fix.”

“I’m glad,” Lance responded with a smile.

“There was something else,” Keith reminded them, always one to kill the mood. But Lance had suspected that this had been bothering him, the anticipation of waiting while not knowing the subject of the talk. Wondering if it was something serious. He nudged Keith again with his foot in what he hoped was a more soothing than admonishing gesture.

“Yeah,” Shiro said, a brief look of uncertainty crossing through dark eyes before his expression turned firm. “It isn’t bad, I’m not angry with either of you. This world is new to you, and there’s a lot of things that you don’t know or aren’t sure of, but I want to start by saying how impressed I am at your dedication and your willingness to learn.”

Lance grinned as Keith turned his head a little to hide the light flush on his cheeks, even as his subtle frown stayed in place.

“But there is something that I wanted to discuss with you, which is the matter of me being included in your scenes. I don’t mind it,” Shiro was quick to say. “I haven’t played in a while and it’s refreshing to be back in the scene. No pun intended.”

Lance snorted.

“But the fact of the matter is, as much as I’ve been pushing you to negotiate your play in in both short term and long term scenarios, neither of you have sought to negotiate with me before including me in your play.”

Guilt immediately flooded Lance’s chest, a furious heat flooding his cheeks, and he opened his mouth to apologize. Shiro held up his hand to stop him, looking pointedly at him.

“I’m not done. I know it seems a given that, with my experience, I will safeword as need be, and if I honestly didn’t want to engage with you, I wouldn’t. But it’s still… It’s rude. And from here on, I would encourage you to communicate and negotiate with anyone, not just me, that you might want to play with.”

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Keith spoke first, quickly. “I didn’t- we didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable for you. Or, uh, dismiss your own feelings. I guess I just kept getting caught up in my head and I asked you for help without even thinking about negotiating with you. And you’re right, that’s unacceptable.”

“I want you to be able to ask me for help,” Shiro said, gently, earnestly. “That’s what I’m here for. In the future, though, if you want to include me or others, it would be a good idea to talk through it first, like we did with your worksheets.”

Shiro paused briefly, and Lance let his hand creep over to take Keith’s and give it a little squeeze under the table.

“Also, before you make a decision about that, I think Keith should explore his feelings about playing with others a little more. It’s okay to play with other people in a non-sexual setting, and I think it would benefit the two of you to discuss your own boundaries with that before including others, if you decide to.”

Keith gently squeezed his hand back.

“I mean, I like playing with you,” Lance said, glancing between Shiro and Keith. “I think it’s been really helpful for both of us, and I’m really sorry that we didn’t talk to you about it first. That’s our bad.”

“It’s alright,” Shiro said with a small smile. “None of what we did even came close to my soft limits, so it was perfectly fine. Still, it’s something really important that should be considered.”

“You’re right,” Keith said, his shoulders slumped just a little in embarrassment. “I like having you in the scenes, too. Maybe… We can negotiate anyway? And Lance and I can still talk about limits of it later?”

“If you’re fine with it,” Shiro said, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “I don’t mind talking here, but we can save it for later, too.”

“No, I wanna know,” Lance said, excitement making his eyes sparkle in the half light of the restaurant.

Keith said nothing, but his agreement was obvious; he leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table, engaged and watching Shiro like a hawk.

“My hard limits are blood and waterboarding,” Shiro began, naturally, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “And any kind of deliberate, permanent marking, like branding or scarring.”

Lance’s mouth dropped open. Not only did he not expect Shiro to be so immediately forthcoming, neither had he ever considered that some of those things would exist in the BDSM world. He closed his mouth quickly, though, covering his sudden surprise by sipping his own drink, the carbonation on his tongue keeping him quiet.

“Fortunately, those aren’t things you see very often. I have several soft limits that have the potential to be negotiated, but I don’t imagine that any of us should stray into that just yet.”

A clever way to avoid admitting what they were, but Lance was more interested in Shiro’s favored play anyway.

“As far as things I’m into, I like a variety of impact play. Mostly giving, but I can receive to a certain extent.” Shiro looked thoughtful for a moment. “I enjoy bondage and bondage related gear, shibari, any type of body worship, certain types of clothing, predicament scenarios. I can enjoy roleplay scenarios but it largely depends on what it is.”

Keith was the one who recovered first, managing to speak while Lance’s head was still spinning with the sudden overload of information and possibilities.

“What kind of clothing?”

“Boots,” Shiro said frankly. “Leather. Latex is more Allura’s thing. But both of us are kind of interested in corsetry, so we’ve been looking around for people to ask about it. But mainly… if it’s something that’s indicative of your role in the scene, I can get behind it.”

“Honestly,” Lance piped in, sky high as he leaned forward to whisper, his tone conspiratorial. “I like your boots.”

Shiro winked at him. “I do, too.”

***

They parted on good terms, giddy despite the initial awkwardness of the situation. In the days that followed, a group text was formed and kept active, something that was agonizing for Lance to ignore during classes.

He had to turn his phone on silent and wait, tapping his pen impatiently, until he could check the messages.

**_Keith  
_ ** _Shiro, I thought about what you said, and I’m good with you joining us officially._

**_Shiro  
_ ** _You’re sure?_

**_Keith  
_ ** _Yeah. And we can always talk it over or call it off if it doesn’t work out._

**_Shiro  
_ ** _Of course._

Lance felt a little bad that he couldn’t always immediately respond. Even so, seeing the messages from the two of them made butterflies erupt in his stomach. Keith wasn’t much of a texter, so to see him respond with such an easy rapport to Shiro made Lance feel a small sense of affection and pride.

**_Lance  
_ ** _can I ask a question lol_

**_Keith  
_ ** _??_

**_Lance  
_ ** _when we do scenes I usually end up blowing u… is that going to include Shiro too or nah_

**_Keith  
_ ** _Jfc Lance_

**_Shiro  
_ ** _It’s a valid question. And honestly, I think it shouldn’t. Since you two are in a relationship, it’s a conversation that you should have privately, and maybe not until you’ve had a couple more scenes under your belts. Does that make sense?_

**_Lance  
_ ** _makes sense my dude_

It made a lot of sense, actually, but it didn’t stop Lance from half imagining/half dreaming if Shiro would taste differently from Keith before he fell asleep that night.

**_Shiro  
_ ** _Are you guys planning on coming by Altea this weekend?_

**_Lance  
_ ** _hope so!! Friday??_

**_Shiro  
_ ** _I’m on DM duty this Friday…_

**_Keith  
_ ** _Yeah, I got called in to work on Friday night_

**_Lance  
_ ** _):_

Lance tried not to feel forlorn. He supposed he shouldn’t have assumed, but even so. He had spent most of the week busting his ass on homework so he would have the weekend free to recover, hazy with headspace.

He cheered up a little later on, though, when he was able to check his messages during lunch.

**_Shiro  
_ ** _I’m off on Saturday, though._

**_Keith  
_ ** _Me, too_

**_Shiro  
_ ** _Altea will be a little busier than usual, but we can always try one of the other rooms if you like._

**_Lance  
_ ** _whatever is fine with me ! :)))_

And it was fine, really. But Friday night rolled around with no homework to do and no plans, letting loneliness and restlessness coil in his stomach. It was impressive how quickly he had gotten used to spending his Friday nights in Altea, and he replayed their scenes over and over in his head as he got an unhealthy, grease filled dinner. After, he found himself wandering into a coffee shop, his head filled with a half idea and the memory of Altea’s lush carpeting and low, seductive light.

He felt a little foolish, pulling up to the dungeon in jeans and his army green bomber jacket, holding a cardboard drink holder instead of a bag of clothes to change into. But the atmosphere was still as friendly as he remembered, and he was immediately greeted by Hunk, who also wore a black shirt with the logo on it, announcing his status as assistant DM.

“Hey, man,” Hunk said with a grin. “What are you doing here? I thought Keith worked tonight.”

“He does,” Lance whined, but he offered one of the drinks to Hunk. “I figured I’d visit since you guys are working so hard. Mocha frap for my favorite DM.”

“Man, you’re too sweet,” Hunk said, taking the drink and slinging his arm around Lance’s shoulders. “We haven’t been working that hard. Everyone’s been pretty well behaved. I think your other favorite DM is in the Closet.”

“The Closet?”

“Yeah, the room with all the stuff people can borrow. I tried to get the Toy Box to catch on, but…” Hunk shrugged.

“I would call it that,” Lance said seriously, and Hunk laughed, letting him go and shoving him towards the doorway.

“You’re the best, man. Catch me at some point before you leave.”

Lance nodded, waving over his shoulder as he picked his way across the main room. It was a little more difficult with other people there, and he had to circumvent a group standing around a table. He could somewhat see that there was someone laid out on the table, but he couldn’t tell much else.

The side room was a little quieter, despite people going in and out of the closet. The door was propped open, and a stool with a clipboard perched on it sat just outside.

Lance peeked in, and sure enough, Shiro was there, all in black, pulling down a flogger to look it over before setting it down by his feet. He wore his boots.  

Lance eased his way inside, waiting for the domme that was also there to choose a set of cuffs and leave before gently clearing his throat.

Shiro turned, a smile lighting his lips when he saw Lance.

“Hey,” he said, hanging another flogger back up. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

Lance shrugged, extending the drink holder. “I thought I would bring you and Hunk something for spending your Friday night being good citizens. I don’t know what you like, so I’ve got a Valencia orange refresher and an iced cold brew with vanilla. Your pick.”

“Did Hunk pick yet?” He asked, stepping closer and regarding Lance with fondness.

“Yeah, he got a mocha.”

“Can I have the cold brew?”

“Sure thing,” Lance said, taking it out of the holder and handing it to Shiro. Their fingers didn’t touch.

“Thanks, Lance, I appreciate it,” he said. “That was really nice of you to think of us.”

“Yeah, well.” Lance shifted from one foot to the other, tugging the refresher from the damp cardboard for himself. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Lance didn’t answer, taking a meaningfully long sip and glancing sideways. “What are you up to?”

Shiro smiled and let the subject change, turning back towards the rack. “Going through to see what needs maintenance or replacing. Mostly it’s just that some of the leather goods need oil.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. We try not to keep anything that needs constant maintenance in here because we couldn’t possibly keep up with it.”

Lance let his eyes roam over the array of items that hung on the rack. Every time he came in here, there was something he had never noticed before.

“I didn’t realize some things needed upkeep,” he admitted.

Shiro nodded. “Certain kinds of leather, anything made from natural fibers. Stuff like that.”

Lance hummed, stepping a little closer to the wall and reaching out to touch a large, rectangular piece of leather that was split in two at one end. Shiro watched him, anticipating a question and prompting him when none came, mirth bubbling into his tone.

“You can ask whatever you like, you know.”

Lance flushed a little, caught.

“What’s this?” He asked, pointing to the item.

“It’s a tawse,” Shiro answered, reaching past Lance to take it down. “It’s for impact play, much more intense than a belt.” He held the handle firmly, letting the split end fall into his palm. “It’s heavy, and one of the most painful instruments to be hit with.”

“How come?” Lance asked, eyeing it curiously.

Shiro showed him the split end, parting the two pieces with his fingers. “Anything that has an opening or a hole, like those paddles over there, reduces the drag of the air as its being swung. It hits the skin faster and harder, making it sting more.”

“Oh.” Lance said articulately. His brain chose that moment to remind him very firmly of the sting of being spanked, and he wondered just how different an instrument would feel.

“I’m not meaning this in a patronizing way,” Shiro said, as if he had somehow read Lance’s mind. “But I think something like this would be too much for you right now.” He hung the tawse back on the rack, and Lance watched him, his mouth dry.

“Then what would you suggest for me?”

Shiro’s responding smile was a new one, a little mischievous and a little coy. “I’m thinking about bringing something for you tomorrow,” he said. “I think it would be fun to surprise you. Would you like that, or would you like me to tell you now?”

Lance groaned. “You’re the worst,” he complained. “Obviously I wanna know! But it can be a surprise.” He sighed dramatically. “I trust you.”

Shiro laughed warmly, and the conversation turned to Lance asking more questions about the gear until he left, clutching his cup of half melted ice, eager to get home and get his hands on himself to hold him over for the following night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay! Midterms are quickly sucking away my free time, orz.

“Lance?”

“Not ready!” Lance shouted from the bathroom, still wrapped in a towel as he furiously blow dried his hair, scrubbing a hand through damp locks.

“That’s fine,” Keith called back, the front door closing with a loud click. He turned when Keith poked his head inside the bathroom, his dark hair pulled up in a way that was a little messy but obviously deliberate. “Have you picked out something to wear yet?” He asked before Lance could demand why, exactly, he looked so hot.

“No,” he said over the drone of the hair dryer. “I haven’t done laundry.”

“Can I pick something?”

Lance nodded dumbly, and Keith disappeared, going to rifle through Lance’s drawers. Had he missed a memo? Keith was dressed smartly in dark jeans and a burgundy button down he had never seen before. Even if the sleeves were rolled to his elbows, he still looked more put together than usual, and Lance wracked his brain for a reason why.

Maybe he just wanted to look good, he decided as he turned off the dryer and finger combed his hair into place. It was definitely a good look. Lance hummed a little as he put on deodorant and the barest touch of cologne on his neck, the scent reminiscent of brine on a summer day, or as close as chemicals could come to the natural smell of the ocean.

He emerged from the bathroom, towel still wrapped around his hips, to find Keith sitting on the edge of the bed next to a pile of clothes. Lance raised an eyebrow at Keith as he looked through the pile, unimpressed.

“For you to wear there,” Keith explained blithely, unbothered by the jeans and sweatshirts meant more for a lounge day than a hot date.

“Uh huh. And what am I supposed to wear inside?”

“This.”

Keith held up his hand, letting the item dangle from one finger. It was one of Lance’s, unfortunately, an ironically modest thong that made his hips look good and his ass look even better. He had only worn it a handful of times, and only once before with Keith.

“I hate you,” Lance informed him, snatching the little piece of deep blue fabric from Keith’s hand.

“You’re not complaining.”

“I’m not, but I still hate you.”

Keith cracked a smile, delighted to watch Lance huff and drop the towel to pull on his choice of undergarment.

“And what are you so dressed up for, huh?” Lance shot over his shoulder as he pulled on his jeans, the material raspy against his bare, freshly scrubbed skin.

Keith just smiled at him and shrugged, an odd, mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s a Saturday night, can’t a guy dress up?”

“Not if it’s you.” Lance sniffed, a little suspicious and a more than a little thrilled at the idea of being in just a scrap of underwear beside Keith’s modestly stylish outfit. The grey sweatshirt he snatched out of the pile bore his school’s logo on it, and as comfortable as it was, it made him feel like a slob as he shoved his feet into a fair of flip flops and crammed his phone and wallet into his pockets.

“Okay,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. There was still a slightly damp spot near the top. “Let’s go.”

Keith gave him a quick kiss as he passed, obviously feeling more playful than usual. He even went so far as to pinch Lance’s ass as he locked the front door, and laughed at Lance’s indignation all the way to the parking lot.

As ‘revenge,’ Lance shifted as close as possible to Keith on his bike, his slim thighs bracketing Keith’s hips, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He was sure that Keith didn’t mind it at all, actually, if the way he sped and swerved to make Lance grip tighter was any indication.

What an asshole.

But they made it to Altea in good time, and Lance couldn’t help but notice how much busier it was tonight than their usual Fridays. Keith parked his bike far off to one side of the lot, and they walked hand in hand into the building, greeting Coran with amiable familiarity as he checked their IDs.

The main room was loud, filled with people talking and playing and enjoying their weekend, and the energy was nearly electric. They wove through the crowd, excitement making Lance’s heart beat double time as they made their way to where Shiro was waiting for them.

The first thing Lance noticed, his attention immediately zeroing in on their mentor, was how different he looked.

No longer a sideliner, meant to watch and intervene as needed, he was now a player of equal standing, and it showed. Close fitting, black leather pants blended nearly seamlessly into a pair of boots that Lance didn’t recognize. They looked brand new, shiny in a way that indicated care rather than cheapness. A belt was cinched smartly around his hips, and each subtle curve of his musculature was accentuated by the tight, long sleeved shirt that he wore. His hands were bare, unlike Keith’s, and his hair was neatly slicked back.

He held a small cooler bag, and a long cane with a black handle.

Shiro greeted them affectionately, bending a little in anticipation of the liminal kiss Lance left on his cheek. He placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezed, and the pair shared a conspiratorial smile that made several clues click together all at once.

“You two planned something,” Lance accused, the answer made clear by the widening of their smiles.

“It’s only fair that we coordinate a little,” Shiro said, guiding them to what has become their sofa.

He sat, indicating that Keith and Lance do the same, and Lance made sure to wedge himself between the two, pouting at his own casual, disheveled appearance next to their sharp aesthetic, models stepped right out of a magazine.

“So let’s chat first,” Shiro began, his gaze expectant. “Keith and I have a bit of a plan that Lance knows nothing of. Would you like to be in on it, Lance? Or would you prefer a bit of an element of surprise?”

Lance hummed noncommittally, drumming his fingers absently against his knee as he considered it. “I like the idea of a surprise,” he admitted. “But can I get a rough idea?”

Shiro nodded, but it was Keith who answered, a slim, gloved hand sliding into Lance’s lap to twine their fingers together. “It’ll be just like the spanking,” he said, his voice a roughened murmur. “Shiro is going to teach me to use a couple of implements, maybe, and how to warm you up, and to see how far your subspace can go.”

Lance took a sharp little breath, squeezing Keith’s hand tightly. “I would like that,” he whispered, and Keith leaned in to kiss him, both a reward and a token of comfort.

Shiro waited, gracefully, for them to part before speaking. “Safewords, then?”

“Green for more, yellow for slow, red for stop,” Lance answered, and Keith affirmed with a nod that he would use the same.

“And you, Shiro?”

Shiro’s smile was breathtaking, radiant, like the sun emerged from behind a greyed sky. “I’ll use those, too,” he said. “But I would like to introduce something else, as well.”

He reached down into his bag, rustling around a little bit before retrieving a handheld bell, small and burnished with gold. It made a delicate, tinkling sound in Shiro’s hand as the bead brushed against the inside, a clear and bright sound that immediately drew attention.

“Sometimes,” he said, holding up the bell by the smooth wooden handle. “A submissive is gagged, or can’t speak for whatever reason. In this case, another method is employed to ensure that they can communicate.” He shifted to hold the bell from the bottom, his index finger pressing the bead against the inside. “Very possible to keep silent, but an unmistakable sound once rung. I want you to try it.”

He offered it to Lance, who took it carefully. It was warm from being held in Shiro’s palm. “Will I need it?”

“Perhaps not,” Shiro said. “But it’s worth getting used to holding on to something.”

Lance hummed, giving the bell a little ring. The sound was tinny, but loud enough to be heard clearly. He turned it over in his hands to hold it just as Shiro did, with one long, browned finger keeping the bead dutifully silent.

“Is that all?” He asked.

“Shiro and I,” Keith began. “Have agreed on no sexual contact, even between you and me tonight.”

“What?!”

“Quit whining. He says you might not feel up to it after what we’ve got planned for you, and even if you are, you’ll need to rest.”

Lance pouted a little, mostly for show, but he agreed. How could he not? Even without the promise of contact, even just having the two of them close by, touching him, dominating him together, was enough to keep his desire quiet.

Keith stood, pulling him up and into another kiss, one that soothed and promised, and Lance chased it when he pulled away. Keith didn’t grant him any more, but held his hand as they followed Shiro into one of the other side rooms, one Lance hadn’t been to before. It was just as lavishly decorated as the other rooms, with grey tiled flooring and black and grey wallpaper leading the eye upward and making the room seem even taller than it already was.

Furniture constructed of both leather and steel were scattered about the floor, and racks of implements lined the walls ominously. As they passed, though, Lance noted that the implements were locked into the rack, and for decoration only.

The piece of furniture Shiro led them to was in one corner, and rather terrifying to look at. Silver steel formed solid angles that supported black leather cushioning, a wide one at one end, and two narrow pieces on the other. In the middle was a third cushioned section that seemed to be adjustable in height.  
  
As obtuse and stubborn as he could sometimes be, Lance wasn't stupid. It was obvious that his legs were to rest on the narrow parts, his hips supported at whichever angle his doms saw fit by the middle piece.  
  
A shiver chased down his spine.  
  
"What do you think?" Shiro asked warmly, a hand resting at the small of his back.  
  
"It's, uh."  
  
"It's not as uncomfortable as it looks," he assured Lance. "But here's something I want you to do. Strip down to your comfort level and kneel, hands behind you. Center yourself and consider if you want to play a little rougher or a little gentler. Okay?"  
  
Lance nodded, his hands immediately flying to the button of his jeans. He slid them off, but left his sweatshirt on for the moment, content to be bare from only the waist down. Or at least, as much as Keith's choice of undergarment allowed.  
  
He dropped his jeans in a rumpled pile with his shoes, fully prepared to leave them as they were, but he startled when Shiro snapped his fingers to get his attention.  
  
"No, sir," he admonished, gesturing to the pile. "Fold them."  
  
Stunned at the scolding tone, Lance knelt, folding his jeans neatly and placing them squarely over his shoes. He paused there, waiting, and his reward was an affectionate stroke of Shiro's palm through his hair. It was enough to soothe him, and he settled, placing his hands at the small of his back and watching, half quivering nerves and half soaring excitement.  
  
Shiro was walking Keith around the steel contraption, pointing out features here and there. He was telling Keith that it was referred to as a spanking bench, and that the leather had to be wiped down before and after each use, but Lance was only half listening. They looked so good, walking in stride with one another despite the difference in height. Keith was more slender, crafted from fierce, agile angles, but he complimented Shiro's sinuous musculature in a way that was nearly mathematical in its perfection.  
  
Lance sighed, dreamy, an adoring smile on his face as he watched them clean the leather until it shimmered, wipe down the steel until Lance could nearly see his own reflection.  
  
What would he see if he looked closely? Brown skin, jarring blue eyes? A windswept mess of soft half-curls, and a dusting of freckles just barely kissing the bridge of his nose? Would he see someone worth both Keith and Shiro's time?  
  
But no matter what he thought, they seemed to only have eyes for him as they returned, both sets of boots making distinct sounds against the tiled floor.  
  
Keith knelt beside him, gently taking his chin in his hands and drawing Lance close enough for a firm kiss on the cheek.  
  
"What did you decide, Lance?" Shiro asked, unfazed by Lance's responding hum of confusion. "Do you want to play rough? Or play nice?"  
  
"Oh." Lance glanced up at Shiro, blinking slowly. "Can I have a little of both?"  
  
Keith laughed softly, his breath a warm caress against Lance's cheek. It made Lance smile, too, feeling giggly with the attention and easy trust that flowed between them. They had all shifted into the scene and their respective roles so quickly, so easily, like it was second nature to them. The ease of it was comforting, and more than a little exciting, and Lance tried very hard not to fidget too much in his eagerness.  
  
"Sure," Shiro said fondly. "You can have a little of both. Keith, will you please go into my bag and find me a pair of cuffs, please? I have leather and rope, your pick."  
  
Keith stood gracefully, touching Lance's hair affectionately as he left. He didn't go far, but it was enough to give them the small bit of privacy Shiro had been looking for.  
  
He knelt in front of Lance, a sudden touch of gravity to his expression, a faraway, stony glint to his eye.  
  
"We're intending to be a little rougher with you than we have been," he said. "But our ultimate goal is to have fun, and to make you feel good, and to be able to look back and say that this scene was a good one."  
  
Lance cocked his head to the side a little, attentive, but a little unsure as to where this was going. Shiro took a breath, noting his confusion and seeming to reconsider his words.  
  
"What I'm trying to say is. I just want to assure you that there is absolutely no shame in safewording out. Even just saying yellow if it's too much, we'll slow down and reevaluate. You don't have to feel pressured to suffer or endure anything you don't have to just to please us."  
  
As he spoke, his voice began to feel as though it was coming from somewhere far away, as if a tide of memory was pulling him from the present moment and into some place that Lance wouldn’t be able to follow him to.  
  
He reached up to cup Shiro's face in his hands, long fingers cradling a strong jawline, freshly shaven and terribly soft.  
  
"I trust you," he said, his tone ripe with sincerity. "Keith, too. You always look out for me, and I won't ever hesitate to call my words or ring the bell or something if I start to have a bad time." He paused, biting his lip. "Besides, I still get cuddled after, so it's not like I'm missing out on the good part."  
  
Shiro smiled at that, and the distant look began to fade from his eyes. This close, Lance could see a thin, well healed and well concealed scar crossing the bridge of his nose. It was silver in the way a weak beam of moonlight was silver, and there was evidence that foundation was what was concealing it. Lance wanted to reach out, to wipe away the makeup and see the entirety of the scar.  
  
But then Shiro was standing, catching Lance's hands in his own and pulling him up, too. Keith had returned and was waiting, a finely crafted pair of leather cuffs in his hands.  
  
"I'll trade you," Shiro said with a lopsided grin, and Keith gave him the cuffs in exchange for Lance. He drew Lance close, winding his arms around his waist in an affectionate embrace, sincere and a little playful in the way Keith kissed his neck and slipped his hands underneath Lance's shirt. His gloves were cool against his skin, and Lance squirmed, trying to twist away. Quick and devious, Keith grasped the hem of the sweatshirt and pulled up, dragging it up and over Lance’s head.  
  
"Cheater," Lance complained as Keith quickly folded the sweatshirt and tossed it down on top of his jeans. He was completely bare except for the underwear, now, a tiny little thing that did little for his modesty. Especially since Keith and Shiro were both fully clothed from the neck down, incredibly chaste despite the location, despite their intention.  
  
The chill of cool air made his flesh rise, but Shiro's hand was warm against the small of his back as he encouraged Lance to approach the contraption crafted from cold steel and chilled leather. The spanking bench, Shiro had called it. Heat flushed his body as his mind raced, recalling his own spanking and marveling that there was furniture specifically for that purpose.

"Settle down," Shiro murmured warmly, leaning around Lance to brush his fingertips against the leather. "What do you think?"  
  
Lance swallowed. "It's kinda scary looking, isn't it?" He said, glancing over at Keith, who had circled the bench to stand across from them. "I'm not entirely sure what it's for."  
  
"It's for you," Keith said, a smile turning up one corner of his mouth.  
  
"You aren't in trouble," Shiro said, the heat of his chest delightful against Lance's back. "This isn't punishment. Just to keep you still."  
  
"Nervous?" Keith teased a little, the amused lilt in his tone ruffling Lance's feathers a little. He straightened, puffing out his chest and grinning.  
  
"Not at all! I just-" He eyed the three sections, his smile faltering. "I'm not sure how to. Get on it."  
  
Shiro laughed, placing his hands on Lance's shoulders. They were heavy, but not oppressively so, and very, very warm. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into the muscles of Lance's back, his voice easy as he spoke.  
  
"Don't be embarrassed. No one is looking at you but me and Keith. You lie on the front part, see? Your hips rest right on the middle, and your legs go on the ends. Make sense?"  
  
Lance nodded tentatively, eyeing the thing. "And you want me to..."  
  
"Get on it? Yes."  
  
Lance set his jaw and nodded firmly, stepping away from Shiro to place his knee on one of the leg sections and hoist himself up. It felt odd to semi straddle a piece of furniture, but it didn't feel terribly unnatural to lay face down across it. The leather was cool against his skin, and he felt just a little exposed, but it was far more comfortable than he would have thought.  
  
"Lift your hips a little," Keith said, kneeling down to reach under the steel structure, and Lance did, only to feel the middle piece crank up, to force his hips higher and present his backside more prominently. He wasn't entirely on all fours, but he wasn't lying prone, either, his body relaxed but still displayed. He shifted, adjusting more comfortably, relaxing into it and into himself. Keith had moved around him to the ends, and he drew soft but secure leather straps over his calves, just below his knees. They were buckled securely, holding his legs to the bench with an austere firmness, and Lance shifted to explore his range of movement.  
  
"I'm not going to run," he teased, trying to look back at Keith.  
  
"It isn't about keeping you here," Shiro answered, taking Lance's wrists and guiding them behind his back to cuff them together. "It's about keeping you still so we don't hurt you on accident."  
  
Lance's breath caught, and he shifted again, looking for the most comfortable position possible with his ass in the air and his hands bound behind him. It wasn't uncomfortable, by any means, and he was already starting to relax now that he had to rely solely on Keith and Shiro for anything and everything. They would watch out for him, loving and attentive, and he would need and want for absolutely nothing under their care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...!
> 
> Not sure what a spanking bench looks like? You can find a picture of the kind I'm referencing specifically [here!](http://i.ebayimg.com/images/a/\(KGrHqN,!hkFCdRsDI5VBQy5iOslyg~~/s-l500.jpg)  
> <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes called trebling, the rule of three is a principle that suggests that things that come in threes are more satisfying, effective, and memorable than other groupings.

As if to soothe the rampant thundering in his chest, Shiro pressed the little bell from earlier into his palm, guiding his hand into a grip that would let him hold it securely but quietly. "Just to practice," he reminded, and Lance nodded. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, letting that hazy feeling settle over him and chase away his nerves.

Keith had a hand on his lower leg, and Lance felt it slide up his thigh, slowly, to grasp a solid handful of his ass. It squeezed, then let go, an action Keith repeated several times, rhythmic, in a way that sent little tendrils of sensation curling up Lance's spine. He sighed, relaxing even further as he felt both of Keith's hands on him, now, running over his backside, along his thighs, as far up as the small of his back, just touching and occasionally squeezing, once or twice dragging the firmer fingertips of the gloves against his skin.  
  
The first slap was gentle, more of a love tap than anything else. But it warned him of what to expect, and Lance didn't protest as the touches came less frequently and the strikes came more. But the escalation was easy, unhurried, the sound of leather against skin loud but not necessarily filthy.  
  
He understood now why Keith had suggested this particular pair of underwear, and a flush crept over his cheeks. He had known about this. He and Shiro had planned this just for him, because they wanted to. No one had forced them. He felt wanted, and it was a combination of that feeling and the hard, thudding spanks to his ass that made his lips part wetly and a low, moaning sigh escape.  
  
"Easy," Shiro's voice murmured to Keith. "Don't drive him too far too fast."  
  
"I went slow."  
  
"You did. But I've started to notice he has a tendency to drop into headspace really quickly. It's impressive, but we should keep an eye on it."  
  
The spanking stopped.  
  
Lance made a little sound, but if it was protest or relief, none of them could be sure. Keith's hands returned to his skin, settling on each of his calves and squeezing gently, affectionately.  
  
"Are you ready for a little more?" Shiro asked, his own bare hand rubbing against Lance's upper back.  
  
"Yes," Lance answered, rising a little from where he had managed to settle himself. He felt a little more alert, but still hazy, contented and thrumming with the not-quite-pain-not-quite-pleasure that burned, banked but still hot, in his backside.  
  
"Yes, what?" It was Keith who asked, and spread out as he was, there was no way he didn't see Lance shiver.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good boy." Shiro pet his hair as he passed by, and Lance turned his head to watch him. He lifted the cane he had brought, the wicked looking thing with a smart handle, and Lance swallowed hard. He suspected that it was for him, but anticipating it like this was different.  
  
Heat pooled between his legs, and his stomach flipped over, twisting in on itself with nerves. Keith's hands slid up his thighs again, gently now, soothing reddened skin in preparation for more abuse.  
  
And then Shiro disappeared with Keith behind him, out of his range of sight, and all Lance could do was stare at the wall and listen.  
  
"Did you do any research, like I asked?"  
  
"Yeah," Keith answered thoughtfully. "It, uh. Was originally used on school kids."  
  
"Correct," Shiro said. "Sometimes people use canes for that kind of roleplay, but I prefer it for different reasons. The impact it provides can be either thuddy or stingy, depending on how it’s used. When used properly, it can leave nice marks, too." Shiro paused, and Lance was so busy imagining just what those marks would look like that he almost missed Shiro’s next comment.   
  
"It also makes this sound."  
  
A loud, sharp hiss cut through the air beside him, and Lance tensed tighter than a bowstring, gooseflesh erupting down his spine. But no strike came, and he sagged against the leather, relief sweeping through him even as his heart pounded wildly. Keith's hand squeezed his ankle, comforting, and he shifted his foot to acknowledge it.   
  
"As nice as it is, you have to swing fairly hard to make that noise. Don't actually hit anyone at that speed."   
  
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Keith's hand disappeared. They were moving, but not into his line of sight; when Shiro spoke again, it was from a place a little more to his right.   
  
"Stand about this far," he was saying. "A cane is longer range, but you always want to utilize the part from the middle down towards the handle. Striking with the length nearer to the tip can cause a wraparound. The tip will bend with the force of the strike and snap against the skin, bruising or breaking it, and that is not what we're looking for."  
  
"Would you ever do that?" Keith asked. "Hit with the top part on purpose?"  
  
"Yes," Shiro answered, a wellspring of knowledge as always. "It is, unsurprisingly, called tipping, but there's a certain way to do it. If Lance is feeling up to it later, I'll show you."   
  
Lance wasn't too sure about that, especially when the entirety of his focus was on this moment. Strapped down, bared, half hard and coiled with excitement that had nowhere to go, Lance was beginning to feel a little restless. He tilted his hips upwards in his eagerness and anticipation, and the movement didn't go unnoticed by his doms.   
  
"Someone wants our attention."   
  
"Someone is being impatient," Shiro said, but his tone was more amused than angry.   
  
Lance tilted his ass upwards again, hoping to tempt them, but he fell deathly still at the solid press of the cane against his backside. It was cool against his heated flesh, solid and thin and heavy in the way it pressed into him. But then it eased up into just a whisper of contact, sliding against his skin and then disappearing.   
  
He expected to be hit at any moment, and he tensed, unsure of what to expect. But the cane just touched him again, resting idly against him. The rhythm repeated, a press that mimicked a strike, then nothing. A touch, then nothing. A tap here and there that felt more like a quick kiss of sensation than anything else.   
  
Shiro was easing him into it.  
  
Lance's heart melted, just a little, and he relaxed, surrendering himself over to it, to Shiro, allowing each tap to come as it would.   
  
They began to fall harder, casually, transforming from kisses of touch to deep, hot stings that made his toes curl. He clutched the bell tightly, making sure it would make no stray, erroneous noise and cease the rhythm of pain/pleasure that sank into his core, burning him up from the inside out.   
  
The caning paused, and Lance took a steadying breath. He hadn't realized that he had been clenching his teeth, and he settled, closing his eyes and letting the tension bleed from his body. 

He heard Keith curse softly behind him. "Holy shit."

"I told you," Shiro said, amusement threading his voice. He dragged a fingertip across one tender stripe, forcing a hot curl of sensation up in between Lance’s hips. He whimpered.   
  
The hand stroked his ass gently, placating, and it soothed him even as the contact sent little firecracker sparks of pain over his skin. 

"Would you like to try?" Shiro asked Keith, and there was a pause in which Lance assumed he nodded. "Great. Remember what I said?"

"Go slow, be gentle. Don't hit with the top half." 

"If you aren't sure how hard it’s going to hit, try it on yourself first. Or, you can try it on me. I would rather you do that than hurt him unnecessarily. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Good." There was a smile in Shiro's voice. "Give me a color, just to ease my mind."

"Green." There was a smile in Keith's voice, too, and a subtle depth that showed his trust, his willingness, his absolute dedication. 

"Then he's all yours." 

The hand left Lance's skin, and he let himself sink a little lower, simply floating and waiting for whatever would come next. His eyes opened, though, when a set of footsteps circled the bench to pause in front of him. Shiro's face was a beautiful sight, and his palm felt heavenly when it carded through his hair. 

"How about you give me a color, too, sweetheart?" 

Lance's stomach turned itself into a solid knot, and he had to wet his lips before he could answer. 

"Green, sir." 

"Good boy." 

The cane pressed against his skin again, but he no longer felt any trepidation. It just sat there, a little firmer than Shiro had let it, but then again, this was Keith. Less controlled, fierce, but tender in small, hidden places that Lance trusted very much not to hurt him. 

Even so, his ass was incredibly tender, already sore and smarting, so when the first swift tap fell, he clenched his teeth against the sharp, reverberating bite. Shiro's hand, which had been absently carding through his hair, paused. 

"Do you want to play a little game, Lance?" He asked lowly, and Lance glanced up at him, blue eyes damp and clear. 

"Yes," he whispered, his thighs jumping as the cane tapped them firmly.

"Open your mouth." 

A thrill shot through him, and he parted his lips, perhaps too eagerly. What pressed into his mouth, though, wasn't what he expected, but he still closed his teeth gingerly around the bent knuckle of Shiro's index finger. 

"Don't bite me," he warned firmly, and Lance quivered as he realized the game. 

The next strike of the cane was a harder one, and Lance jumped, barely able to keep from clamping his teeth down.  He whimpered, truly stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to sink further. The concentration on not biting Shiro took too much focus, and it made the pain that much sharper as he was allowed to feel every moment of it without the veil of headspace to soften it.

Keith was definitely different from Shiro. The way he beat Lance was utilitarian, a measured _tap tap strike_ that had Lance kicking his feet and arching his hips to try and relieve the tension that coiled in his body. He whined around Shiro’s finger, twisting as much as he could in his restraints, but never did he release the iron grip he had on the bell in his hands.

He was exhausted, he was in pain, he felt hazy and overheated and so desperately turned on, but with nowhere for any of it to go, all he could do was curl his toes and kick and scream in his throat as the cane hit him harder, each savage kiss feeling like it was splitting his skin open. He writhed against the straps holding him down, but neither they nor the bench budged. He gave a dry sob, clutching the bell with white knuckles, his thighs tense and his back arched and his teeth leaving no more than the vague shadow of an indent on Shiro’s skin.

He didn’t notice, for a few moments, that the caning had stopped, until a gloved hand settled on his lower back, stroking away the tension.

“He seems like he’s had enough,” Keith’s voice said, and Shiro tugged his finger away. Lance gave it a quick, apologetic lick, but let it go, sagging onto the bench and breathing hard.

“Do you want me to show you tipping?” Shiro asked, and Lance almost whimpered in protest.

But after a moment of thoughtful silence, Keith answered. “No,” he said. “Not this time. He seems a little overwhelmed.”

Lance glanced up at Shiro, and the smile he wore was a proud one. He had been testing Keith, and Lance couldn’t help but feel pride, as well. Keith wasn’t stupid. He was dense, sometimes, with some things, but he wouldn’t push too far. Lance loved him for that, for his easy trust, for his patience in regard to everything and anything in their relationship.

He felt warm with that knowledge, and he didn’t even notice at first that they were unbuckling the straps holding his legs down and the cuffs binding his wrists together. Shiro gently tugged the bell from his hand, and for a moment, he was reluctant to let it go. But it was soon replaced with Keith’s hand, instead, and Keith helped him to gingerly climb off of the bench and stumble on quivering legs to the closest sofa.

It wasn’t their usual one, but still nice, and Lance tucked himself against Keith’s chest, floating on the ebb and flow of the throbbing pain in his backside. Keith held him for a while, stroking his back and murmuring praise to him until he began to shiver, suddenly cold now that the constant stimulation was gone.

But before he could even think to complain, someone tucked a blanket around him. He turned his head a little, out of the warm curve of Keith’s neck.

“Shiro?”

“I’m right here.”

Lance held out a hand, and Shiro took it, sitting down beside them.

“Do you wanna sit with Shiro for a bit?” Keith murmured to him. Lance shook his head, but squeezed Shiro’s hand. “Feel okay?”

“Mm hmm,” Lance hummed. “Hazy.”

“That’s expected,” Shiro said. “You did so well, Lance. Keith, you did, too. I’m really impressed.”

“You did great, too. I actually… Really liked playing as a group. Officially. If you guys would be willing to do it again.” Keith sounded hopeful, but he was dead wrong if he thought that either of them would turn down another play session.

“We can talk about it when Lance is feeling a little clearer,” Shiro said, but Lance could see his subtle smile. He turned and leaned away, and Lance tightened his grip on Shiro’s hand in reluctance to let him go, but Shiro just hushed him. He sat upright, holding the black cooler bag this time, and he pulled out a couple of individually wrapped pieces of chocolate.

He unwrapped Lance’s for him, the crinkle of the wrapping a soft sound. The chocolate was sweet on his tongue, and he relaxed a little more, placated by the sugar and the distraction of having something to suck on. He was warm now, too, with Keith holding the blanket close around him, and he thought that he could fall asleep right there. He had mocked Shiro earlier for claiming he would be too exhausted for anything else after, but now Lance saw firsthand how right he was.

He was sure he dozed, his head heavy on Keith’s shoulder, but it only seemed like half a moment before Shiro was nudging his shoulder and offering him a box of juice. Just like the ones he had had as a kid, a little bland but still refreshing, and Lance couldn’t help but smile sleepily at the odd juxtaposition.

He laughed outright when he heard the harsh sipping sound and realized that Keith had one, too.

“Shut up,” Keith murmured to him affectionately. “You about ready to go home?”

“I can’t walk.”

“Bullshit.”

“Carry me.”

“No.”

Lance turned his gaze on Shiro, batting his eyelashes just enough to hopefully look alluring. “Shiro?”

Shiro paused. “I could, but I think it’s Keith’s call.”

Lance pouted.

“I guess it depends,” Keith mused. “Do you think you could stand riding back on my bike?”

Tears almost sprung to Lance’s eyes just at the thought. “I don’t think so,” he admitted softly, burying his face in Keith’s neck. “We should have brought my car.”

“I can drive you home,” Shiro said, glancing between them. “I wasn’t going to stay after you two left.”

“I’ll have to take the bike,” Keith said. “If you want to ride with Shiro.”

Lance nodded, gathering himself and sitting up on Keith’s lap. His ass hurt, sheer down to the backs of his thighs, and he winced at the thought of putting his jeans back on. But he stood, knees only a little shaky as he bent to retrieve his clothes.

“Pretty,” he heard Keith murmur to Shiro, who hummed with agreement. Lance smiled, his expression lazily coy as he glanced back at them, slipping his shirt over his head and arching his back just a little to show off the array of marks that no doubt lingered on his skin.

He stretched a little, too, feeling languid and lazy beyond the echo of pain and the subtle arousal that thrummed easily, unhurried, through him. He found he liked the idea of Keith and Shiro watching him, and he felt no guilt in being a little flirtatious. He bent at the waist to pick up his jeans, graceful and coquettish, and slid the harsh material slowly up long legs to cover the evidence of his doms’ ownership.

When he turned back, Keith’s face was flushed indignantly red, and Shiro looked a little less put together than usual. Lance grinned, triumphantly, holding his arms out to Keith.

“Kiss me? I was really good.”

Keith was lightning fast in his haste, immediately leaping to his feet to rush to take Lance in his arms, kissing him with a sweetness and passion that made Lance melt. Keith was warm, his arms strong despite the deception of his trim frame. He smelled so good, like cologne and sweat and something that was so unbearably Keith, smoky and musky and comforting.

Keith was the one who pulled away first, taking Lance’s hand and guiding him away.

“Do we have to clean the-“

“Shiro did it,” Keith said, squeezing his hand. Lance offered Shiro a smile in thanks, walking close enough beside him that their fingers brushed. He felt safe walking between them, secure and wanted. It was only as they passed through the front door that he noticed that they were letting him set a pace where he was most comfortable as they walked.

“I’m over here,” Shiro said, gesturing to one side of the lot as he rummaged through the black bag for his keys.

“I’m on the other side,” Keith said. “I’ll meet you at your place?”

Lance nodded, and Keith leaned in to give him another brief kiss. “See you soon,” he murmured. “Thanks, Shiro,” Keith said to him, reaching out, and they clasped hands briefly in a way that outwardly seemed professional and brotherly, but Lance could see the way Keith’s fingers lingered, the slide of palm against palm as they parted.

“Any time.”

They went separate ways, then, Keith walking briskly towards his bike, Shiro and Lance continuing their steady, ambling pace towards a sleek black sports sedan. Shiro opened the door for him, and Lance folded himself gingerly inside, tugging the seatbelt across his chest and sagging into the seat. It was comfortable enough, but the pressure was just too much, so he turned, sitting more on one hip, facing Shiro’s handsome profile.

He mumbled his address, and Shiro typed it into his phone, turning the music and the directions on low volume. He drove smoothly, the streetlamps they passed casting his face in sharp relief. Lance leaned his head against the seat cushion, admiring Shiro with lidded eyes, a half smile teasing his lips.

“How do you feel?” Shiro asked softly, glancing at him. “Good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. But I like it.”

Shiro smiled. “I’ll give you something to put on it.”

“Okay.”

A comfortable silence fell over them as they drove, easy and companionable, until Shiro spoke again.

“Talk to me. Was there anything you liked or didn’t like about the scene?”

Lance made a thoughtful little sound. “I really liked when you asked me not to bite you,” he admitted. “It felt like… I had to focus on everything at once, and it was almost overwhelming. But it was good, you know? And… I really like how you and Keith work together.”

“I like our dynamic, too.”

“There wasn’t anything I didn’t like this time.”

“I’m glad.” They paused at a stoplight, and Shiro looked over at Lance, his gaze shadowed but the turn of his lips gentle. “I know Keith will be taking care of you. But is there anything you need from me? Aftercare wise?”

The aftercare was his favorite part, filled with tender touches and sweet kisses and whispered praise that made his stomach flutter and his heart turn soft. There was something about the scene, the aftercare, all of it, that felt so incredibly intimate, and Lance desperately didn’t want to miss out on a single moment of it.

“Keith kissed me,” he said tentatively. “You should, too.”

Shiro glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Lance-“

“I like you.”

“Lance.”

“Yes, sir?”

Shiro sighed heavily, his hands gripping the steering wheel. A sudden tension riddled his body, and he watched the road with a hawk eyed dedication.

“You and Keith are together, right?”

“Yes.”

“So you can’t ask me-“

“Polyamory is a thing.”

“I know that,” Shiro said, his voice strong and firm and insistently logical. “But a polyamorous relationship without communication isn’t a relationship at all. I enjoy playing with the two of you and I enjoy your company, but I’m not willing to compromise what the two of you have.”

Lance sank into his seat, chastised. “I guess… It’s the headspace talking,” he murmured. “Scenes just feel so intimate.”

“I know,” Shiro responded, his tone softer, comforting. “It can be confusing and hard to process sometimes, especially right after. You took such a solid caning, too. I’m actually really impressed with you, Lance.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Lance smiled a little, but it faded as they turned into the parking lot of his apartment complex. The staticky voice of the GPS announced their arrival, bored and a little too condescending, as if she knew how forlorn Lance was beginning to feel at the thought that he might have scared Shiro away.

“Will you still play with us?” He asked as Shiro parked, his voice quiet and sad.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Shiro murmured, turning and leaning forward to press a fond, sweet kiss to Lance’s cheek. “Get some rest. You deserve it.”

“Yes, sir.” It was a habit tonight, to say it, it seemed. But Shiro didn’t seem to mind, if his gentle smile was any indication.

“Good boy. Do you need help going inside?”

Lance shook his head, opening the door and carefully getting out. “Thank you.” He turned back, about to close the door, but then paused. “I don’t know if you need anything,” he said. “Aftercare wise. But… I think you did a great job, and… I had a really good time.”

“Thank you, Lance.” Shiro sounded sincere, a little touched, and Lance smiled as he closed the door. Shiro waited until he was inside his apartment and safely in Keith’s embrace before driving away, a simple black shadow trailing silently down the street.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honesty is the best policy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> screams   
> I'm so sorry for the delay, haha! Once my work assignment was finished I ended up diving immediately into finals. And then I wrote this chapter, promptly hated it, and overhauled it completely. But I very much missed you all, and hope you enjoy! ;u;
> 
> PS: Consent is discussed at a few minor points, but nothing bad. Just a heads up!

“Ah!”

“Are you sure you’re ready to-“

“Yes!”

“Lance.”

Lance huffed, turning his head to the side, letting the cool, previously untouched section of the sheet caress his cheek. He shifted his knees, subtly trying to find a position in which he could better brace himself. “I want to,” he said.

“I don’t mind just fucking your thighs again-“ Keith started, but Lance cut him off vehemently.

“It’s not the same! I wanna feel you in me, bruises or no bruises.”

He could almost hear Keith scowling from where he knelt behind Lance, the dark, striped marks left over from the caning laid out in front of him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me.”

Keith’s hands, blissfully bare, slid up the outsides of his thighs, up his hips and over his lower back, heavy in pressure, sensual in intent. “How about this,” he murmured, his tone a little dark, a little aggressive. “I’m going to finish fingering you, and if you make a single sound of pain, I’m going to stop, and I won’t touch you anymore.”

“You’re mean,” Lance hissed, yelping as Keith abruptly pushed him over, manhandling him onto his back. “Shiro wouldn’t treat me like this.”

“It was Shiro’s idea to cane you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, pouting up at Keith.

“He made me practice, you know,” Keith said, pushing Lance’s knees toward his chest and encouraging Lance to brace his feet on his shoulders. It exposed him, folding him nearly in half for Keith to do as he liked. Unfortunately, what Keith liked in that moment was to brush his fingertips down the backs of Lance’s thighs, turning his head to press a kiss to the delicate skin on the inside of his ankle. “He asked me to come over, and he made me try the cane on pillows until I could accurately hit within a certain area.”

“You went to his house?”

Keith nodded, his index finger trailing down to circle Lance’s opening. Finding it drier than he would like, he poured more lubricant in his hands, warming it first before applying it with slow strokes, full of intent. “It’s nice. Minimalist.”

“And you practiced for me?” Lance tried to hide the hitch of his breath as Keith’s index finger dipped inside.

“Yeah,” Keith hummed above him. “I don’t think he would have let me cane you if I didn’t. But I wanted to. I like how you respond to the pain, I guess. But I don’t want to actually do you real harm.”

Lance smiled, tender, his expression open and his eyebrows drawn with the concentration of relaxing into the fingering and appreciating Keith with the majority of his self.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Keith’s finger sank deeper, his eyes dark but alight as they studied Lance, on his back with his legs braced against Keith, his ass and thighs marked with parallel lines of deep pinks and reds, healing but profoundly stark in the severity of their contrast on his skin. It was beautiful, in a way that made Keith’s chest flush hot, and he turned his head to press another lingering kiss to the inside of Lance’s ankle.

They could both feel Lance opening up beneath his ministrations, as one finger became two, relaxing and giving himself over to what felt good, but he still tensed when Keith’s fingers brushed a particularly sensitive mark on his ass.

“It hurts,” Keith accused, his fingers seeking out his prostate. When he found it, the reaction was instantaneous, Lance’s lips parting in a silent gasp, his eyes lidded as he stared up at Keith.

“I like it,” he responded, struggling for coherence around the mind numbing pleasure of having his prostate teased and rubbed by wickedly talented fingers.

“Mm hmm.”

“I do!”

Keith didn’t respond. He didn’t need to explain himself, not when his intention was clear in the way he eased down, letting Lance’s legs slide over his shoulders as he parted his lips. Lance’s hands flew immediately to bury themselves in Keith’s hair, tugging in encouragement and insistence. He was almost on the verge of begging Keith to ease up, to relieve some of the pressure of the onslaught of a hot mouth and skillful fingers both working him over at once.

Lance pulled at the rich handfuls of black hair that he held, torn between dragging Keith closer and pushing him away. His heels pressed into Keith’s back, his thighs strung tense beside his ears, but Keith didn’t let up. The press of his fingers was insistent, the slide of his tongue firm and torturous, and Lance’s half formed pleas for even a little bit of mercy went unheeded.

It was only when he was spent, his hips jerking from an orgasm that had come too fast and too hard to properly handle, did Keith pause. Lance quivered, his breath coming fast and his heart pounding, only distantly aware that Keith still held him in his mouth. His ass was empty, though, as Keith’s hands had found something else to attend to.

Lance made a soft sound of protest, his hips suddenly arching as Keith’s tongue continued to work the oversensitive skin of his cock.

“Keith-“

Keith hummed, the sound of his own hand on himself growing frenetic, and Lance whined. He tugged at that dark hair, overstimulated despite the slow movement of Keith’s tongue, and he twisted with it, seeking reprieve even as his hole twitched from the stimulation, and in protest of the emptiness.

Blissfully, blessedly, Keith pulled off to groan through his own orgasm, his voice low and roughened into a growl, his breath hot against the crease where Lance’s hip met his thigh. As appealing as it was to have Keith in between his legs, Lance waited just long enough for Keith to take several gulps of air before holding out his arms to beckon him up.

Keith went, lying heavily against his lover, his cheek resting on Lance’s shoulder. Lance wrapped his arms around him, stroking sweat dampened skin and smoothing what he could reach of tangled hair.

“I wanted you to fuck me,” he murmured, a tired complaint lacing his voice.

“Shut up,” Keith grumbled. “You’re still in pain.”

“I don’t mind-“

“I warned you that if you cried out, I wouldn’t.”

Lance smiled. “You said you wouldn’t touch me. But you did anyway.”

Keith’s arm snaked low around his hips to tug him closer. “You’re a lucky boy, then.”

***  
Despite Lance’s blasé disregard, the marks from the caning healed well, aided by the cream Shiro had given him paired with Keith’s careful attentions. Touching the marks no longer made them smart, but produced a pleasant, low seated ache instead. The lines themselves faded to a dusty rose, precise and pretty, and Lance couldn’t resist admiring them in the mirror.

He took pictures, too, flirty little flashes and teasing snippets of skin that escalated into a short video of his ass, and how, when he squeezed a handful, the marks turned white before flushing a deep pink. Upon playing the video back, he noticed that the audio revealed the breathy little sound that he made, but only if the viewer was listening very, very carefully.

Lance immediately chose to send the video to Keith, but his fingertips lingered, uncertain, over Shiro’s name. The only other Snaps Shiro had gotten from him was of a Chipotle bowl and a pile of homework. But his impulse ran faster than his logic, and the video was sent before he could even wonder if it was a mistake.

***

_Takashi00 replayed your Snap!_

***  
**_Lance  
_**_so whats up for this weekend lol_

Probably not the most appropriate text to send to the group chat while he was sitting in with his study group. But who could blame him? It was Wednesday already, and no plans had been made despite their agreed insistence to play again.

“Antsy?”

“Distracted,” Lance answered, placing his phone face down and resting his face in his hands.

“You’re always distracted,” Pidge said, glancing back to her laptop screen. Her hair was tousled as usual, her glasses slipping low on her nose. She pushed them up absently, her fingers returning quickly to type rapidly over the keyboard.

“Mm. You know that paper isn’t due until Tuesday.”

Pidge spared him another glance, her fingers still moving. “Yeah, but I wanna finish before the weekend. My brother is coming into town and we’re gonna hang out with a friend of his. Maybe see a movie.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Your brother is… in grad school?” Lance asked, his eyes darting to his phone when it buzzed innocuously.

“Yeah. He took a break for a year but he’s in the Garrison’s graduate program for astrophysics.”

“That’s fucking sick,” Lance said, his expression genuine. “Hope you guys have a good time.”

“Thanks,” Pidge said, her eyes softening in lieu of a smile. “What about you, any weekend plans?”

“I dunno.” He turned his phone over to peek at the message.

**_Shiro  
_ ** _I’m sorry, I already have plans for this Friday. You’re welcome to go to Altea without me, of course._

“Guess not?”

Lance glanced up, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“You look real disappointed there.” Pidge commented, her expression cool.

“Plans got canceled.”

“Bummer,” she said, her eyes turning back to the screen. “Now stop wasting time and study. I bet we’re going to have a quiz tomorrow in class.”

Lance groaned.

***  
**_Keith  
_**_That’s okay, we’ll get together later_

***  
He hadn’t thought about it. Not really. Shiro had reassured him in the car, and he had forgotten about it. But now, as he lay in bed, the dark illuminated only by the colored light of his alarm clock, he wondered if he had scared Shiro away after all.

He had been forward, and a little pushy, and Shiro hadn’t mentioned plans at all before this. What if, despite Shiro’s firm assurance, he didn’t want to see them anymore?

Lance turned onto his side with a heavy sigh, trying to close his eyes and let himself drift to sleep, but the unease was sudden, and close behind that, guilt.

He had made Shiro uncomfortable. And worse, he hadn’t yet told Keith what had happened. Did asking for Shiro’s kiss count as cheating? Even if it hadn’t happened, because Shiro was smart and strong and hadn’t been drugged up on endorphins and headspace. But Lance had asked for it, and had tried to fight for it. Shiro had told him no, and God, he had argued with him like a selfish brat, completely willing to try and debate with Shiro’s consent.

When his mind stopped spinning and he finally fell asleep, it was more of a fitful doze that anything resembling real rest. Morning came too early, and as he dragged himself into one of the chairs in the classroom, he realized with a groan that Pidge’s premonition about the quiz was about to come true.

***  
On Friday, he went home only to pack a small bag, then drove to Keith’s apartment. He let himself in, welcome and familiar, and dropped his things in the hallway before shuffling into the living room to flop face down on the couch, his legs slung over Keith’s lap.

“Hello to you, too,” he said, patting Lance’s calf. “Rough day?”

“Rough week,” Lance mumbled, turning his head and letting his arm drop off the edge of the couch. “Can we play? Maybe?”

“You wanna go to Altea?”

Lance made a noncommittal sound. “Can we stay here?”

“Sure. You hungry?”

Lance shook his head. “Let’s eat later.”

"What do you want to do?"  
  
Lance was quiet, his cheek resting heavily against the couch cushion. Keith's hand rubbed his leg soothingly, giving a gentle squeeze to get Lance's attention.  
  
"What's up?" When Lance was quiet for a moment longer, Keith continued. "I can't play if you don't tell me what you want."  
  
"I feel like," Lance began tentatively, feeling as though he had swallowed a rock. But Keith was there, listening patiently, his hand strong on his leg, and Lance gathered up a little handful of courage. "I've been bad."  
  
"You want me to punish you?"  
  
Lance made an indecisive noise, turning over to stare up at the ceiling. "Not really? At least not right away."  
  
"You want me to treat you like you've been bad."  
  
He gave a slow, careful nod. Keith studied him, his expression pensive.  
  
"You want to tell me why you're bad?"  
  
Lance shook his head.  
  
"You want me to pull it out of you?"  
  
Another nod, so subtle it could have been missed.  
  
"So how about..." Keith paused. "How about I use whatever I need to within your limits to make you tell me what you did, and then we'll pause and go from there?"  
  
"Okay," Lance agreed, turning and sitting up, his legs still draped across Keith's lap.  
  
"Is what you did a real thing or a made up thing?"  
  
Lance looked away. "A real thing."  
  
"Okay," Keith murmured, his hand taking Lance's own. "We'll evaluate when we get there. Anything you want specifically?"  
  
Lance licked his lips, his throat a little dry and his heart beginning to flutter.  
  
"Do you remember when we tried puppy play?"  
  
Keith nodded, not a single shred of judgement or expectation in his eyes. Lance squeezed his hand, consistently and immensely grateful for his understanding.  
  
"I want to feel like that but without the dog part. I wanna feel like I'm owned but not... like that."  
  
Keith squeezed his hand back, threading their fingers together. It wasn't a terribly expressive, not for anyone else, but for Keith it was a sweet, accepting gesture.   
  
"Okay," he said, reaching out to touch Lance's cheek, his thumb a little rough as it smudged against the corner of his mouth. It was meant to be affectionate, loving, and Lance closed his eyes, not really minding how rough handed Keith could be without realizing it.   
  
"So I wanna keep pretty open communication, but still use safewords, alright?" Keith said, meeting Lance's eyes. His gaze simmered with electricity, intensity swirling just below the surface but still tightly controlled. It made Lance settle immediately, and he nodded, his lips ever so slightly parted. "When you give me your safewords, we'll start, so only tell me when you're ready."  
  
"I'm ready."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Green," Lance murmured, his voice pitched in a way that only Keith would hear, despite the fact that they were alone. "Yellow if I want to slow down. Red to make it stop."   
  
Keith leaned in, rewarding him with a slow kiss, so heady and intoxicating that Lance tried to follow when Keith pulled away. Keith stopped him, though, placing a firm hand on his chest.   
  
"Go get some water. Take a deep breath. Go get as undressed as you feel comfortable, then come here."  
  
The orders were clear, easy to follow, and it was a relief to be able to start to let go, to let someone else take charge. Lance rose slowly, heading first into the kitchenette to pour a full glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. He drank, slowly, the water cool on his tongue and settling to his nerves, and once he had drained the entire glass, he meandered into Keith's bedroom, where he tugged off his shirt, shimmied out of his pants, and stripped off his socks. He was a moment away from simply tossing them on the floor, but he recalled Shiro scolding him for his sloppiness, and picked them back up.  
  
As he folded, he debated on his underwear, slimming briefs that hugged his hips and flattered his legs. But the apartment was warm, and high enough to thwart any prying eyes, so Lance shed them, too, allowing himself to be completely bare and unequivocally submissive.   
  
He returned to Keith, then, who had turned on the TV and was lazily flipping through channels. He glanced up at Lance's arrival, but didn't seem shocked by his nudity.   
  
"Kneel here," he said, gesturing to the floor beside his feet. "Take deep breaths. Settle into your headspace a little and then we can start."   
  
"Yes, sir," Lance said. As much as he enjoyed being playful and difficult, he wanted to be good now to make up for his transgression. He knelt, gracefully, bowing his head and settling his hands behind his back, even though he had not been instructed to. He was not admonished, however, and Keith simply murmured a brief snippet of praise before falling silent, allowing Lance time to ease down.   
  
Shiro had been right. Lance did slip into headspace quickly, especially when he was in the proximity of those he trusted. Keith, immeasurably, and Shiro, easily.   
  
Lance took a steady breath, tuning out the TV and turning his focus inward. He felt the carpeting beneath him, the couch beside him, Keith's warmth lingering close. He felt himself begin to relax, his shoulders sagging and each vertebrae of his spine curving inward just a little, tension bleeding from his body.   
  
When he felt centered enough to face Keith as a submissive to a dominant rather than one boyfriend to another, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Keith's thigh.   
  
A hand settled on the back of his head, threading through the short hairs there.   
  
"Got something to tell me?"   
  
Lance shook his head, a soft whimper escaping as Keith gripped a solid handful of his hair and guided his head up.   
  
"Sure?"   
  
"Yeah," Lance answered, keeping his hands firmly at the small of his back, despite the way the position made his back arch.   
  
"Yeah, what?"   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
"Mm." Keith let go, but Lance kept still, trying not to fidget as Keith looked him over. "Go to my room," he instructed. "The shoebox under the bed. Go get the two clothes pins and bring them here."   
  
"Noo," Lance whined immediately, his hands coming quickly back around his body to grip Keith's pant leg in supplication.   
  
Keith's responding gaze was merciless. "You wanna tell me, then? Why you're bad?"   
  
Lance flushed, and turned his head away.   
  
"No? Then go get the pins, unless you have a color other than green that you want to tell me about."   
  
Keith had been learning a lot from Shiro, and it showed. Especially in how to keep his dominance and ask for consent at the same time, keeping the integrity of the mood but holding his submissive's safety above all else.   
  
But comfort? That was something else.   
  
Lance shook his head forlornly, and rose to make his way with leaden feet to the bedroom. The shoebox had far less toys than Lance's own collection, but there was still a healthy amount of lubricant, condoms, and a handful of other things they had collected together. The clothes pins were at the bottom, left over from an experimental night that was a little too painful for everyday use.   
  
Lance frowned at them, resting innocuously in his palm. He was reluctant to deposit them into Keith's hand and kneel again, but his body thrummed with anticipation and thrill. He watched Keith turn the pins over in his fingers, opening and closing them, testing the force of the spring. It didn't seem that they had weakened at all, and Lance shuddered when Keith's eyes turned to him.   
  
"So it seems like you have some confessing to do," he said, sitting forward and leaning down to tip Lance's chin up. "You'll get to wear these until you do. Care to spare yourself?"   
  
The shake of his head was almost imperceptible.   
  
"Alright." Keith's hand drifted from his chin to trace down his throat and to his chest. This close, Lance couldn't help but note that his hands were bare. No gloves, no barrier of leather to separate their skin as Keith touched him. But it was a gift with an edge; Keith's fingers were deft and work rough, and the first swipe of a thumb across one nipple made his lips part in a silent gasp.    
  
Keith knew how sensitive he was. He knew it and he was using it against him, teasing with brushes of sensation that melded into gentle pinches, preparing Lance for the pins. The first one went on, and Lance whined, the sound coming from low in his throat. The pinpoint of tightness on one side of his chest while Keith gently teased the other was an exquisite sort of contrast, one that ended too soon as the other pin joined its fellow.   
  
Lance hadn't noticed just how much his knees had parted as he knelt on the floor, nor just how keyed up he had begun to feel. But then all touch was gone, and Keith was sitting back onto the couch, picking up his phone to completely ignore his very tormented, very willing submissive.   
  
"I'm setting a timer," he said. "You've got five minutes to decide if you want to fess up. Oh, and keep your hands behind your back. It makes you stick your chest out."   
  
A heavy blush swept across Lance's cheeks, but he did as he was told, folding his arms behind himself again and settling down to wait. He tried not to focus too much on the tight points of pressure against his nipples, but the feeling was hard to simply will away. He wasn't used to it, to the feeling of tingling numbness that slowly began to set in. He was so wrapped up in the minutiae of the experience, of waiting beside his dom for his torture to be over, that he didn't even consider the reason for it in the first place.   
  
The sound of the timer on Keith's phone startled him, making the pins shift with the movement of his body. He winced, gazing up at Keith hopefully, who simply looked down at him with an expression almost bored.   
  
"Got anything to say?" He asked, reaching down to loosen one of the pins. Sensation flooded his nipple, and Lance gave a small cry that was silenced as he bit down on his lower lip.   
  
He weathered the rush a second time as Keith released the second pin, his back arching forward in his body’s attempt to curl up against the onslaught.   
  
But still. He shook his head, his breath rushing out in a quick, controlled stream. Keith shrugged, unbothered, and reached out again to pinch one sore nipple, tugging just enough to force Lance's back to straighten.   
  
"I'm doubling your time," he said, putting each pin firmly back into place. Lance chewed his bottom lip, but nodded, watching with a tingling sense of foreboding as Keith set the timer for ten minutes.   


Keith leaned back, his attention returning to whatever program was playing, completely content to let Lance work through his indecision on his own.   
  
The second time around, the numbing sensation wasn't as unexpected, and it allowed Lance to think around it.   
  
He hadn't been worried about Keith being angry. His only concern had been Keith's disappointment that Lance might have chased Shiro off. But now a cold knot of fear twisted in his gut at the thought that Keith might consider his request for Shiro's kiss to be unfaithful. On top of that, Keith might think that Lance’s insistence after hearing ‘no’ was too unacceptable to tolerate.   
  
He hung his head, staring down at the clothes pins pinched tightly to his nipples, and lower, where his knees were splayed apart and his cock showed a fair amount of interest in the fact that he was being punished and ignored.   
  
Traitor, Lance thought.   
  
But his cock didn't reply and the torment continued, time moving with immeasurable slowness. Lance closed his eyes, wishing for something to focus on besides the numbing pinch of the clothes pins. He imagined being allowed to blow Keith at the same time. He briefly fantasized about getting spanked again, until he realized that each blow would undoubtedly make the pins jerk against his chest, their weight tugging even more on his abused nipples.   
  
Regardless, his cock began to show even more interest as he imagined it, and Lance willed it to stop being such a needy, masochistic bastard.   
  
It didn't listen.   
  
The timer going off was a blissful sound, and Lance eagerly straightened his shoulders in anticipation of the removal. The rush of blood back into his nipples made him whimper, the tender things already sore and reddened.   
  
When he met Keith's eyes, then, he saw a simmering sort of depth that inexplicably made him want to drown himself. What he had with Keith was forged from trust and communication built in spite of plenty of early misunderstandings; surely this would be just another roadblock to pass.   
  
But Lance was still made partially from nerves and insecurities, and when Keith asked, for a third time, if he wanted to come clean, he shook his head.   
  
He wasn't ready yet. He wasn't sure if he really would be, if the game would really end unless their third player was privy to this, too. Lance was the one who had disrespectfully demanded Shiro to perform an act with which he felt uncomfortable, but he felt as though he needed absolution from both of them to even start to feel better.   
  
He wasn’t unhappy with just Keith. Keith was absolutely everything. Hotheaded and brave, Keith was a sandstorm whirlwind of intense affections and wild energy, and like a strong wave against the shore could sweep Lance away.   
  
But Shiro was like the ocean underneath, still and calm and endless in his patience and understanding. He could reel Keith in, calm him, settle that racing mind and ease Lance's own anxieties. He was a rock for them both, an asset to each of them personally, and Lance had thought more than once that the reason he was made with two hands so he could hold one of each of theirs at the same time.   
  
But he hadn't communicated that.   
  
He had instead sprung a selfish request on Shiro with no preface and no warning, and that was unfair. Even worse, he was about to do the same to Keith.   
  
"I'm ready," he whimpered, the two sore points against his chest nearly agonizing. "I'll talk."   
  
Keith glanced at him. "You have to wait the full fifteen."   
  
"No, please, I'm ready now, I can't-"   
  
"You know what to say if you really need to stop."   
  
Lance fell silent.   
  
"Give me your color."   
  
"Green..." he murmured unhappily.   
  
"Then quit whining."   
  
Silence fell between them again, interrupted only by the quiet murmur of the TV. It helped a little, to have something mindless to listen to while he contemplated both the dread of the pins being removed and the anxiety of actually having to fess up.   
  
But he was safe here. Keith wouldn't go through this if he didn't care. Even if that knowledge wasn’t exactly a comfort. He felt as though he were about to violently jostle that very foundation that they had tenuously, carefully built their relationship on.   
  
He jumped when the timer went off, but reacted eagerly, presenting his chest in hopes that Keith would remove the pins faster. But Keith moved at his own leisure, sitting forward and releasing each one with a terrible slowness, even pausing in between. Lance worried his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to avoid crying out, but he couldn't stop a whimper low in his throat as the second pin came off.   
  
He raised his hands, the urge to rub the sore spots strong, but Keith's disapproving look was stronger.  
  
"Hands down."   
  
Lance obeyed, lowering his hands, and his eyes, waiting and trying not to fidget as Keith studied him from where he sat on the couch, leaning forward with his chin in his palm.   
  
"I can set the timer ag-"   
  
"No!" Lance exclaimed, straightening and meeting Keith's eyes. "I mean. No. I'll uh." He paused, then glanced away. "I'll say it."   
  
"Then say it."   
  
"Do you remember..." Lance took a breath. "Last Friday? When Shiro drove me home?"   
  
"Mm hmm."   
  
"We were driving, and. He asked me if I needed anything for aftercare. And I, I asked him to kiss me."   
  
Keith didn't react. Not a single shift of expression, not one twitch of muscle or even a blink of his eyes.  
  
"Did he?" He prompted when Lance fell quiet.   
  
"No!" His defense of Shiro was quick and fierce. "He didn't. He said that we were together, but I..." Lance looked down at his hands, idle in his lap, his nails bitten short and his palms a little dry. "I argued with him. He told me no, but I immediately started to fight him on it."  
  
"You tried to force him to do something, because you were being selfish."  
  
Keith's crystal clear explanation hit home, and Lance nodded forlornly. How many times had Shiro asked for and clarified the consent of each one of them? And yet Lance had completely disregarded it.  
  
"Do you think I should punish you for it?" Keith asked, his voice monotone, almost passably bored.  
  
At the thought of punishment, Lance's nipples throbbed sympathetically, but his cock jerked with excitement. He flushed red, looking down at the carpet between his knees. Of course he wanted to be punished, to give his actions up to his dom and to take any consequence that was doled out. Maybe then he could feel absolved, relaxed, and focus on more important things.  
  
"I'm going to take that as a yes," Keith said, reaching out to grasp Lance's chin. He forcibly turned Lance's head to meet his eyes, studying him as if looking for something.  
  
"You're going to go back to my room, and you're going to bring me lube and a condom, and whichever one of my belts you think will hurt the most."  
  
Lance's mouth went dry, his stomach turning upside down. Torn between arousal and trepidation, he stood on shivery knees when Keith let him go to pad quickly but carefully down the short hall. The lube and condom were an easy, familiar find, and they promised pleasure and intimacy. But the belt... Lance had never taken a belting before, and he nearly trembled to think that his first would be on the tail end of recovery from a caning.  
  
Despite his nerves and the viable opportunity to cheat, he carefully looked over Keith's meager collection for the thickest and strongest of the belts, willing it to have even the smallest of mercies.  
  
He should have returned to Keith immediately, but the lube in his hand encouraged him to stop by the bathroom instead, to freshen a little, to clean himself out, and to admire the swollen, reddened peaks of his nipples from the torture. He tried not to linger for longer than necessary, but Keith was impatient even on the best of days. When he returned to Keith's side, his dom didn't even look at him.   
  
"You took your time."  
  
"I was-"   
  
"I have about five belts total."  
  
Lance fell silent, acknowledging the scolding. He held out the belt he had chosen as an offering, and only then did Keith look at him. He took the belt, folding it in half and gathering it in one hand. He seemed to approve, and spread his knees slightly, draping his arms across the back of the couch.   
  
"Straddle me."  
  
Lance obeyed, bracing one knee on the couch cushions to lower himself onto Keith's lap. His legs were spread apart, forcing Lance to sit high up on his thighs, their hips nearly flush. He could feel Keith's cock, swollen but trapped beneath his jeans, and it took a monumental amount of self-control not to grind down on it.   
  
Keith wound his empty hand around Lance to grab his ass, his fingertips pressing close between his cheeks. Lance tipped forward to allow Keith better access, bracing his hands on Keith's chest. Keith laughed, making Lance flush indignantly, those fingers shifting to explore his entrance more thoroughly.   
  
"So this is what you were up to," he said, smirking up at Lance. "Anticipating getting fucked, huh?"  
  
Lance's tongue darted out to dampen dry lips. "Yes, sir."   
  
"Think you deserve it?"  
  
What a loaded question that one was. But, Lance supposed, Keith was going to be the one getting the most out of it, so he smiled a little, his eyes brimming with cheeky mischief.   
  
"Yes."  
  
Keith raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. His hand retreated, much to Lance's dismay, until he held it out in front of him.   
  
"Lube," he demanded, and Lance gratefully poured a generous amount into his hand and onto his fingers. Keith met his eyes as he reached back around to start spreading slick over his hole, his gaze hot. "Spread yourself."   
  
Lance's breath caught, and he acquiesced sweetly to the demand, leaning forward a little and reaching back to part his cheeks, allowing Keith more room to spread lube, more space to use to ease him open.   
  
He loved it when Keith gave him orders. Brusque, demanding, rude in a way that pushed him into that unique sort of headspace that had driven them to seek out a real BDSM experience in the first place. And as much as Lance was excited about Altea and eager to learn new things, there was something original and intoxicating about Keith's roughened voice and less than gentle fingering, and it sent him reeling.   
  
"I like you like this," he admitted, his voice breathy, strung out on headspace and desire and the little twinges of pain from being stretched too quickly. "I like when you're mean."   
  
Keith laughed, an honest sound. "I'll be mean to you, baby," he promised, his fingers curling into a spot that made Lance whine, then removing them completely. "C'mon, get me ready and then you can have that cock you want so bad."   
  
Lance moved eagerly, shifting back a little to allow himself room to open Keith's pants. He eased down the zipper and parted the fly as if opening a gift, his deft hands tugging Keith's boxers down as far as he could to free his cock, half hard and gaining interest by the second.   
  
Lance reached behind himself to drag his fingers through some of the excess lube that was cooling on his skin, slicking his hand just enough to make his fist glide down Keith's cock, encouraging it to harden with each squeeze and swipe of his thumb over the head.   
  
Keith's gaze remained stoic, betraying almost none of his pleasure. He sat, sprawled over the couch with languid ownership, seemingly unimpressed with the nude boy on his lap and the long fingers curled around his cock. But Lance could see the subtleties of the way his brow drew together, could feel how quickly the flesh in his hand hardened, could feel the tension in the strong thighs below him.   
  
It made a smile toy on the edge of his lips, and Keith raised an eyebrow.   
  
"What's so funny?" He asked, wrapping the belt around Lance's lower back, pulling on each end to draw him closer.   
  
"Nothing," he said, the hand braced on Keith's chests sliding up to cup his neck, fingers sinking into the hair behind one ear. "It just doesn't really feel like I'm being punished."   
  
Keith's responding smile was full of teeth and intent, and it made Lance's spine tingle in a delightful sort of trepidation.    
  
"You don't think so?" He mused, his voice dangerously conversational, even as his hips twitched upwards as Lance rubbed the pad of his thumb just underneath the head of his cock. "How would Shiro punish you, then?"  
  
Lance's head tilted to one side as he thought. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's never done it before, not really."   
  
"He hasn't gotten to see what a brat you are," Keith said, using the belt to drag Lance even closer. "He will, though."   
  
Keith's confidence was soothing. If Keith said that they would play with Shiro again, then they would. It was that simple, because Keith was more than certain in himself, in his conviction, and if he decided he wanted something, he was going to have it. Worst, though, was that Keith knew that his confidence calmed Lance, and he used it to his advantage.   
  
"Ride me," he growled into Lance's ear, his lips dry and his breath hot, and Lance sprung into action. He ripped the packet of the condom open, his fingers clumsy in his haste, and rolled it onto Keith, touching as much as he could in an amateur attempt to tease. But Keith didn't respond, and Lance moved forward, spreading lube over the condom with a quick swipe of his hand before lifting himself up on his knees to guide Keith to his entrance.   
  
The initial penetration was too fast for how little and how roughly he had been prepared, and Lance gasped, his hands clutching at Keith's shirt.   
  
"Quiet," Keith murmured, his voice strained. "We both know you like this."   
  
He did. Oh, God, he did. It wasn't something they could often indulge in, but there was something about being stretched open on cock instead of fingers that made the space between Lance's hips tighten with heat. He made a small, strangled sound, and Keith let up, guiding him up enough to add more lubricant, to finger it just past the opening.   
  
The second round went smoother, the same pressure with less pain, and Lance's little cries shifted from ones of pain to ones of enjoyment.   
  
Once he was fully seated on Keith's lap, they paused, already breathing heavily. Keith moved first, sitting forward enough to kiss Lance, briefly, heatedly.   
  
"Put your arms behind your back," he ordered, and Lance obeyed, grasping his elbows and remaining obedient and still as Keith wound the belt around his forearms and secured it.   
  
It was an homage to the night that drove them to seek out a mentor, when the belt binding Lance had been too tight to be safe. Now, there was still room for Keith to work his fingers under the leather while still binding Lance in place.   
  
They had come far.   
  
Keith seemed to recognize this, and he sat back, his expression a mix of pride and lascivious appreciation. He let a hand drift lazily up Lance's torso, touching gently here and there before reaching his oversensitive nipples. He gave one a light pinch, making Lance's hips jerk forward of their own volition.   
  
"Come on, now," he prompted, tugging on the swollen flesh, and Lance swallowed hard. He could take a hint.   
  
He began to roll his hips, riding Keith with slow, circular motions. It was difficult to keep his balance, and even harder to stay within a tight range that wouldn't pull too harshly at his nipples, trapped as they were in Keith's fingertips. If he stayed close, then those wicked fingers just brushed them, sending tendrils of pleasant sensation curling down his chest. If he strayed too far, they clamped down, pinching and pulling hard.   
  
"I-"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"I take back what I said about this not feeling like punishment."   
  
Keith laughed, and despite the intensity of the moment, the sound was beautiful.   
  
"I didn’t even decide to beat you. Besides. You like it."   
  
Lance couldn't help but smile sheepishly. It was true, and instead of answering verbally, he let it show in the way he moved his hips, arched his back, the way he positioned himself so that they both felt good.   
  
He kept the angle and depth he preferred and the speed that Keith favored, sharp and brisk, and it wasn't terribly long before they were both panting hard, the air moist between them.   
  
Lance could feel the strain of the muscles on the insides of his thighs, the low ache in his abs from riding in this position, but he was too close to quit. He gasped as Keith grabbed his hips roughly, forcing him to rock harder. His mouth took up the job his fingers had abandoned, his tongue soothing against Lance's swollen nipples, the hint of his teeth terrifying and thrilling.   
  
Keith was close; Lance could read it in the tension of his body, in the particular grip of his hands. The way he breathed, the way tension wrapped around him like wire on a coil, ready to spring vigorously loose and become devastatingly tangled.   
  
This was the dom he had wanted to pull more of from Keith. Demanding, selfish, mean, but still so attentive at his core. Lance could trust him to batter him, use him, but still keep a sharp eye out for any genuine hurts. His deference to Shiro was sweet, encouraging, but this was what he was really like. To see them play together with Keith's true element would be nothing short of extraordinary.   
  
Lance was sure he tightened just at the thought of it, for Keith cursed, his short nails sinking into the skin of Lance's hips in an attempt to seek purchase. His hips arched upwards between them, nearly throwing Lance off balance, but he kept upright as best he could as Keith rode out his orgasm, hard and fast and intense enough to leave him panting hard, his face and neck flushed.   
  
Lance stilled as Keith leaned back heavily, giving him a chance to recover. Keith's breathing slowly began to ease back into normal, his dark eyes closed as he wound down. Lance waited, patient despite the urge to wriggle in Keith's lap, to rush towards his own orgasm. He gnawed on his bottom lip, though, still strung tight and desperate, and after several long moments of being ignored, he made a small sound to angle for Keith's attention.   
  
Keith opened his eyes, pupils wide in the dim light. A lazy smile played on his lips, and he reached up to cup Lance's cheek. Lance nuzzled into it.   
  
"Good boy," Keith murmured, swiping his thumb over one accentuated cheekbone. "You want to come, don't you?"   
  
"Please."   
  
"No."   
  
Lance paused. "What?"   
  
"I said no. That's your punishment. You don't get to come until you apologize to Shiro, and he accepts it."   
  
"But-"   
  
"But what?"   
  
Lance fell silent. There was no argument he could give that would be convincing. There was nothing for him to lose besides his own comfort. And besides. He had asked for this. Even more so, Keith was being very, very lenient.   
  
"But it could be a long time," Lance whined, shifting in Keith's lap, hyper aware of the cock softening inside of him.   
  
"So?" Came the response. "You wanna argue with someone's consent then you don't get to feel good until they accept your apology."   
  
Lance frowned, but he was cornered. There was no way to argue his way out of this unless he wanted to admit that he was being selfish.   
  
"Don't make that face," Keith said, tipping his chin up. "Go clean up and put some clothes on and we can watch some TV."   
  
"And get food?"   
  
"And get food." 

“And…” Lance shifted. “You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, Lance. We can talk about it, if you really want to, once we eat.”  
  
Slightly reassured, Lance got up, wincing at the wet feel of lubricant. He retreated to the bathroom to cool down and clean up, still highly keyed up and turned on and terribly frustrated, but as he washed his face and studied his reflection in the mirror, he resolved to handle it with grace.   
  
He could do it for Shiro.   
  
Right?   
  
He imagined waiting a week or more and groaned with the thought.   
  
***   
  
**_Shiro_** _  
Hey I know it's kind of last minute and that we normally don't play on Sundays, but I've found myself with the evening free if the two of you are still interested in doing something together? :^)   
  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued patience ! <3

Falling asleep wrapped up in Keith’s arms was easy, his body a little sore but no longer strung tight with tension. He felt warm, adored despite his transgression and despite his ongoing punishment, because Keith wouldn’t bother putting him through this if he didn’t intend to keep him.

Morning was a little different, however, for he was roused by a warm hand between his legs, easily drawing the previous night’s denied release to the surface. Lance whimpered, hazy and heavy with sleep, but when he tried to shift away, Keith effortlessly reeled him back in.

“Just belt me and get it over with,” he whined.

Keith chuckled in his ear, his breath tickling the mussed hair at the back of his neck. Lance shivered.

“Not a chance,” he whispered. “If we’re going to see Shiro tomorrow, I get to torture you extra while I have the opportunity.”

Lance swore, his hips twitching forward into Keith’s hand. Maybe he could beat Keith at the game, to come quickly and let Keith take the blame for touching him so much. But Keith knew his body too well, damn him, and was able to retreat at the perfect moment, leaving Lance hot and hard and desperate.

“Come _on_!”

“I’m gonna shower,” Keith said, nonchalance dripping from him as he sat up and stretched, swinging his legs over the bed. “You’re welcome to join if you wanna cool off.”

Lance kicked off the sheets and got to his feet, grumbling as he stomped into the bathroom. Keith had already turned on the shower, and was stepping inside just as Lance entered and slammed the door closed.

He kicked off his boxer briefs and joined Keith under the awfully cold spray of water, letting it diffuse the heat in his body and letting Keith offer comfort with a smattering of kisses across his shoulders.

***

**_Keith  
_ ** _Sunday works fine for us. Wanna do dinner too_

**_Shiro  
_ ** _That sounds great! Do you guys want to meet at Altea?_

**_Keith  
_ ** _Maybe let’s do something more casual? Like come to my place and we can just do something simple_

**_Shiro  
_ ** _I’m fine with that. Did you two have anything in mind?_

**_Keith  
_ ** _Not really. Let’s do something you like_

**_Shiro  
_ ** _Are you sure?_

**_Keith  
_ ** _Guest’s choice_

“Think he’ll pick something fun?” Lance asked, peeking over Keith’s shoulder at the texts. They alerted on his phone, too, buzzing erratically in his pocket, but he was too lazy to answer. Instead, he opted to peek over Keith’s shoulder and finish his ice cream.

“All of his interests sounded good.”

Lance hummed, trying to recall what they were as he licked at the dwindling scoop of chocolate.

His phone went off, then, at a separate rhythm from Keith's, and Lance finally fished it out of his pocket, curious. The furrow of his brow quickly melted into a smile upon reading the message he had received.

**_Shiro_ ** _  
Hey, I couldn't help but notice you've been a little quiet in the group chat. You okay with everything?_

He tilted his phone towards Keith, who leaned in more than was necessary to steal a lick of ice cream as he read. Lance shoved his head away, more out of concern than any desire to deny Keith anything.

"Quit that, you had your sorbet."

Keith shrugged, ignoring his own little cup of pomegranate sorbet that had been scraped absolutely clean. It sat next to them, the receipt crammed inside, a little reminder that the ice cream trip was a bit of a consolatory gift for Lance’s suffering.

"He's sweet."

"Yeah," Lance responded with a small smile, handing his ice cream to Keith and turning his attention back to the message. He typed his response quickly, watching though his periphery to ensure that Keith wasn’t making any bad decisions.

**_Lance_ ** _  
of course! im with Keith rn, we r talking about everything lol_

The response was almost instantaneous.

**_Shiro_ ** _  
I'm glad! See you on Sunday._

**_Lance_ ** _  
:P_

"I think he's gonna forgive me," Lance said with an air of confident smugness as he took back the ice cream, intact except for the bite taken directly off the top. There was a smudge of chocolate at the corner of Keith’s mouth, and Lance wiped it away roughly to punish him for his thievery.

"You think so?" Keith asked, his face wrinkling at the treatment.

"Mm hmm. He likes me."

Keith leaned in close to try and steal another taste, grinning at the way Lance batted at him, but he said nothing else.

***

Lance was convinced that Sunday nights were liminal times, the anxiety ridden threshold between one week and the next. They came too fast and dragged too long, carrying a sense of foreboding, as if he had forgotten to do something very important, and was running out of time to do it.

Despite the feeling, it wasn’t true; Lance had completed every assignment due both Monday and Tuesday in order to have enough time to spend with Keith and Shiro. But however false the feeling, his stomach still churned with the impending imposition of a new week and the faint thrum of pique as their meeting time neared.

"Are you okay with this?" Keith had asked, again and again, and Lance had assured him each time that he was plenty satisfied with their method of punishment and potential for reward. He had learned his lesson, several times over, and now the only thing left to do was to apologize to Shiro for real, sincerely and on his knees.

He didn't expect that Shiro would deny him, but the anticipation of it was enough to make him shudder with displeasure.

He was more than willing to beg for forgiveness, at this point, especially in the face of Keith's torment. His punishment had been a calculated one, one that would test Lance the most. He was a young guy, for crying out loud, overly insatiable in sexual appetite, and Keith had deliberately used it against him. Lance was forced to appreciate it, on some level, despite the boiling frustration that made his skin oversensitive and every mild stimulation maddening.

He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave to arrive at Keith's place on time.

Perhaps taking one last opportunity to torture himself wouldn't go terribly amiss.

He crept into the bathroom, supplies in hand, moving as quietly as if he suspected that Keith would appear at any moment to scold him. But Lance was alone, locked in the privacy of his bathroom, with plenty of time to coat his fingers in lubricant and ease himself open. He moved slowly, dragging the pads of his fingertips along his sensitive insides and stretching the rim just the way he liked, and it was a matter of minutes before he was panting, already wound up despite not having touched himself.

If he didn't stop now, he wouldn't stop at all.

With an agonized groan, Lance pulled his fingers away to reach for the plug he had brought with him. It was of medium size, comfortable enough to wear for an extended amount of time but large enough to keep him open enough to fuck immediately. He coated it generously in lubricant before sliding it into place, shuddering at the feel.

God, this was a bad idea. Driving and walking and being around Keith and Shiro would be a nightmare, but... As soon as Shiro gave his blessing, Lance wouldn't have to wait a single moment longer for Keith to relieve the coiled, burning pressure that had settled between his legs.

He shuddered again as he dutifully washed his hands and left the bathroom, moving gingerly as he gathered his overnight bag and his keys and headed out.

***

The sleek black sedan was already parked in the visitor's section of Keith's apartment complex.

The low sounds of laughter could be heard from just outside the door, and Lance fumbled with his keys until he found the one Keith had given him some time ago. He stepped inside, locking the door behind him and kicking his sneakers off next to the array of Keith's boots that littered the area next to the door.

He shuffled into the kitchenette, smiling brightly at Keith and Shiro, who stood across from each other with naught but the island between them. Keith had already ordered pizza, and it sat, unopened, to one side.

“Smells good,” Lance said, moving as easily as he could manage to lean against the counter next to Keith. A smile lingered on Shiro’s face as he greeted Lance, and Keith’s posture was relaxed. Their conversation must have been good. It eased Lance’s mind.

“Want to eat?” Keith asked, trying to fit himself into the role of the host as he pulled out paper plates and run of the mill plastic cups. Lance rewarded his efforts with a quick kiss to his cheek before opening the boxes to see what was inside.

One pizza was pepperoni, and the other was entirely mushroom. Lance made a face at Keith as he dragged a slice of pepperoni onto his plate, already sagging under the slight weight. Keith sent him a wicked grin, though, when Shiro took a slice of both.

They migrated to the living room to eat, as casual as they could make it. Shiro didn’t seem to mind it, though, his form relaxed and at home in Keith’s armchair. Lance let him and Keith do most of the talking as he sat, as gingerly but as naturally as he could manage. He waited with bated breath as, one by one, all three of them set aside their grease sodden paper plates.

Shiro rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, his fist propping up his cheek as he smiled at them, that ever present fondness seeming to glow even brighter now that they were alone.

“So,” he began, easy and unhurried. “Wanna talk about tonight?”

When Lance didn’t take action or comment immediately, Keith spoke up.

“Yeah. But I think Lance has something he wants to say, first.”

Lance didn't normally balk at the prospect of being in the spotlight. But he felt shy, then, as Keith nudged him, and as he stood to place himself carefully in front of Shiro’s chair. He straightened, his body language anticipatory but his expression open. Lance was tempted into a smile, finding it terribly easy to relax when Shiro's entire being was acceptance.

"Hey," he began softly. "I, uh, I wanted to say something and I want to say it two ways, if that's alright."

Shiro gave a small nod, indicating his permission, and Lance took a quick, steadying breath before he continued.

"First off, I want to say that I'm sorry for my behavior last Friday." Shiro immediately opened his mouth, his brow furrowing, but Lance barreled forward, words tumbling out before he could fully process them. "What I did was really, really uncool. Like, I don't regret asking for a kiss because, cmon. Look at you! But you said no and I argued with you and that was inappropriate. I was being selfish and wasn't thinking about your consent or your feelings and I'm really, truly sorry."

He paused, taking a quick breath, and Shiro waited a moment to ensure that he was finished before speaking.

"Lance," he said gently. "I didn't even think about it like that at all. I completely understand. You were wrapped up in headspace, but you apologized, and all three of us are on the same page. So it's completely fine." Shiro smiled, infuriatingly kind. "Nothing to worry about, alright?"

Lance nodded, feeling just a little flustered at how easily and articulately Shiro reacted to his bumbling apology. "I was a little nervous that I had scared you off," he blurted, a flush staining his cheeks.

Shiro laughed. "Aw, Lance, I'm sorry if I led you to think that! I had a friend come in to town that I'm close to. I couldn't miss seeing him."

"A play friend?" Lance couldn't help but ask, waggling his eyebrows suggestively to cover the meddlesome nature of the question.

Shiro's smile became fond, his eyes taking on a bit of a dreamy quality. "Nah. He's familiar with the scene but he's not really into it anymore."

"Oh."

"Disappointed?"

"No!" Lance spluttered, automatically springing to defend himself until he realized that Shiro was just teasing.

"What was the second thing?" He asked, steering the conversation back on topic, a smile still playing across his lips.

The reminder was more jarring than Shiro had intended it to be, considering Lance’s intention, and he turned a little to glance at Keith for reassurance before facing Shiro again.

"I want to apologize in another way, too," he said, impressed at how confident he managed to sound. "Shiro, tell me your safeword?"

Shiro studied him for a moment, his smile turning pensive as he considered this sudden change of pace. He leaned back in his chair, his arms resting easily on either side. "Green, yellow, and red," he answered eventually, his eyes drifting from Lance to Keith, and then back. "I’m green for now, but if it changes, you'll know."

Green meant permission, so Lance sank to his knees, crawling forward nimbly until his fingertips rested a mere inch from the toes of Shiro's boots. He didn’t even consider why Shiro was still wearing them; it was embarrassingly easy to slip into the role and accept the scene. He had been hovering near this sense of submission all weekend, and now it enveloped him, grounding and settling and by now familiar.

"I'm sorry I disrespected you, sir," he murmured, his head bowed reverently over Shiro's boots. "I had no right to ask for anything." He bent his head, brushing his lips against the smooth leather toe of one boot. "Forgive me?"

Lance held his breath in the moment of silence that followed, not even daring to exhale as he waited. The position he held, on his knees and doubled over, forced the plug he wore into a different angle, and it took a good portion of his self-control not to react, to pretend as though he wasn't infuriatingly hard and to wait patiently for Shiro's answer.

"You are moving into very dangerous territory," Shiro warned, but his tone bore just enough amusement to keep Lance from panicking. Even so, his lungs began to burn with the breath he held. "Kiss the other one, too, and you'll have my forgiveness," Shiro murmured, easing his other boot forward.

Lance exhaled, at long last, a whisper quiet stream of breath, and he leaned down again to press his lips against the top of the other boot, lingering just a little longer than he had before.

He glanced up, daring, but all he could see was the laces of the boot, solid Xs that tracked a perfect path for his lips, up Shiro's leg, but he wasn’t quick enough to grant himself the opportunity to follow it.

"Alright," Shiro said, tenderness imbued in his tone. "You've indulged me enough. There's nothing to forgive, but if you really want it from me, it's yours."

Lance looked up earnestly. "I really do," he said, letting his fingertips brush against the sides of the soles of Shiro's boots. "Keith wants me to have it, too."

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him. "Has he been punishing you over this?"

"Yes," Lance responded, his pulse brisk and his cheeks flushed. "But it wasn't anything that I didn't really have coming."

"Tell me about it."

Lance turned his head towards Keith, whose solemn nod was all the permission he needed.

"Um, I got some time to think about what I did," he admitted. "And I haven't been allowed to, um. To come until you say it’s okay."

"That's a little harsh, isn't it?" Shiro asked, winking at Lance and looking to Keith for an answer.

Keith shrugged. "It's only been a couple days. He isn't suffering."

"He riles me up every chance he gets," Lance complained, looking to Shiro for sympathy.

"You ever denied him like this before?"

Keith shook his head.

"Then he's probably suffering a little bit, huh?" Shiro reached down to gently ruffle Lance's hair. "I say he's learned his lesson. He has my forgiveness, and then some."

Lance beamed at Shiro, nuzzling into his hand sweetly. "Thank you," he whispered, grateful even though he knew he wouldn’t be denied.

"Of course," Shiro answered. He stood, stepping around Lance carefully to avoid trampling his fingers. "I imagine that you're going to want relief from your punishment immediately, so maybe it's best if I just-"

"Don't go." Keith's interruption was strong, despite the nature of the plea. He stood, approaching Shiro as an equal, his back straight and his dark eyes bright with his conviction. "I didn't invite you over just for this. Show us what you brought. Ropes, right?"

Shiro gave a slight incline of his head, and Lance watched quietly from the floor as the two stared at each other.

"Then show me how to tie him up right," Keith offered, more brazen on his own grounds than he was at Altea. "And then you can go. But if you like, if you're comfortable..."

Keith glanced at his sub, the carpet digging into his knees and his eyes wide. His lips were parted just so, and he seemed to waver on the threshold of whether or not he was believing what he was hearing.

"Then maybe you can stay and watch." 

Lance's surprised inhale was soft, but sudden. Shiro glanced at him, his expression unreadable.

"I'll stay and show you some ties," he conceded after several tense moments, his tone thoughtful as if he was sorely tempted by the offer. "I'll think about staying longer."

"Take all the time you need," Keith said. "But just know that we both would very much like it if you stayed."

Lance swallowed, his mouth suddenly and uncharacteristically dry. He took Keith's hand when it was offered, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

"Drinks, anyone?" He asked, kissing Lance's cheek sweetly, as if he hadn’t just invited a good friend of theirs to watch them have sex.

"Water?" Lance all but croaked.

"Water. Shiro?"

"The same, please."

"Sure. Lance, go show Shiro the bedroom."

In recent memory, Lance couldn't recall a more delightful order. He waited until Shiro had grabbed the small backpack he had brought, and then took his hand, leading him down the hall and into Keith's bedroom.

It was simple, as far as bedrooms went, a little dark overall and decorated with the occasional jacket tossed haphazardly across a chair. But the bed was a solid queen, neatly made and plenty comfortable. Lance sat on the edge, reluctantly letting go of Shiro’s hand to gesture around the room with a smile.

"This is it," he said as Shiro put down his bag. "Make yourself at home."

Shiro smiled, effectively ignoring the suggestion in favor of kneeling by the bed in front of Lance. He reached out, one hand resting on Lance's knee, the other reaching around his leg to touch the bed frame. It was an odd action, but Lance didn't care to dwell on it, not when Shiro's palm was warm and solid on his knee. When the urge struck him to reach out and touch Shiro's cheek, he didn't resist. Shiro allowed the touch, letting Lance cup his cheek, his fingertips sliding into close cropped hair, his thumb just brushing the edge of what felt like the whisper of scar tissue.

He was opening his mouth to ask about it when Keith joined them.

"Two waters," he said, coming inside to place them side by side on the nightstand. He stepped up behind Shiro, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "What were you thinking about?"

Shiro tilted his head up a little, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. "I was thinking about tying him into place for you," he said. "You have the bed frame for it. What do you think?"

"I like it," Keith answered with a grin, his fingers tightening on Shiro’s shoulder in appreciation. "Lance?"

"Yes, please."

"He’s on his best behavior, huh?" Shiro asked with another one of those devious little winks.

"He had better be."

"Would you like me to take a more instructional approach to this?" Shiro turned a little more, looking at Keith over his shoulder. "Or would you just like to watch and ask questions as you have them?"

"Let me watch," Keith said, stepping back to allow Shiro to stand. "Instruction would be more useful, but I think it would take me out of the scene."

"Fair," Shiro said, reaching for his bag and pulling out three neatly tied lengths of rope, along with a belt that sported a holster, which held a standardized pair of EMT shears. He wrapped the belt around his hips, cinching it firmly, ensuring that the shears were easily within reach of his dominant hand.

He turned to Keith, then, his shoulders tall and squared, his stance confident and thrumming with what could only be interpreted as excitement.

"So I’m going to tie him at my choice and discretion. Any restrictions?"

Keith shook his head. "I'll leave safety to your judgement. Do what you like, within his comfort."

Shiro turned to Lance, that kind smile on his face. "Sound good to you, sweetheart?"

Lance nodded. "I'm green across the board," he said. "A little nervous about being completely immobile, so, just be nice."

"Of course," Shiro soothed, just as Keith circled to his side to pepper his cheek and temple with kisses.

Lance closed his eyes under the treatment, comforted enough by the attention and the journey of kisses that ended at his lips to allow Keith to divest him of his shirt and pop the top button if his jeans.

"Take these off," Keith murmured. "Your underwear can stay on if it makes you more comfortable."

Lance obeyed with flushed cheeks, trying to move as fluidly as possible to hide the fact that he was still wearing the plug, buried deep and winding him up at a steady pace.

He turned his gaze to Shiro once he had removed and briskly folded his clothes, once again bared while he and Keith remained clothed. Eager to begin, he offered his wrists to Shiro, a scant few inches apart, his lips parted with the steady force of his breath as he fully turned himself over to the scene.

"I’m ready, sir," he said, making both of his dominants smile. Keith stepped back to allow Shiro control over the scene, but he stayed nearby, watching with sharp eyes as Shiro loosened one of the lengths of rope. He held it folded in half, draping it over Lance's wrists and pulling one end, letting the rope pass slowly over Lance's skin. It was soft, surprisingly so, with minimal drag that left nothing but the faintest tingle in its wake. It didn't feel at all like the kind of rope he expected, rough and harsh and abrasive. No, this rope was finely made, meant to restrain without damaging the skin.

Lance and Keith both followed vigilantly as Shiro took one end and wound it, four times, around Lance's narrow wrists. A gentle tug drew his hands closer together, and Lance held them there obediently as Shiro crossed the two tails of the rope in the small space between, then began to wind the tails perpendicularly around the rope, effectively cinching Lance’s wrists together.

He tried to tug, to test the pull of the rope, but Shiro's voice immediately stilled him.

"Stop."

He remained frozen, his heart thudding in his chest at the possibility of having upset Shiro, but his unfounded panic quickly eased as he realized that Shiro simply wasn't finished.

Shiro tied a deft lark's head knot into the middle of the rope between Lance's hands, then gathered the remainder of the two tails into his palm. He gave it a quick tug, smiling as it pulled Lance a step forward.

He expected the rope to tighten against his skin as it was pulled, but there wasn’t even a single shift in the tension. The security of the binding made his shoulders sag as he relaxed even further, relieved that the ropes wouldn’t tighten or loosen beyond where Shiro had tied them. His control was there, evident on his skin, present in the echo of the initial cinch of the rope between his wrists.

Shiro pulled on the lead again with a gentle strength, drawing Lance close. It was close enough for Lance to feel him breathing and to feel the heat coming off of his chest, to hear him murmur the order for Lance to lie horizontally across the bed.

Lance wasn't entirely sure how he responded, only that he answered softly before reluctantly pulling away. Shiro gave him enough slack for him to move freely, and he sat gingerly on the edge of Keith's bed, glancing between the two of them as he lay back, his arms stretched out coyly above him.

Lance focused his attention on Keith as Shiro circled the bed with the rope, drawing his arms even further over his head. Keith was watching him with keen eyes, his arms crossed over his body as he took in each subtle movement of the both of them, each twist of rope as Lance shifted.

Lance couldn't see what Shiro was doing, but it felt like he had knelt on the floor and was tying the lead end of the rope securely to the bed frame. Lance arched his back a little, tilting his hips in a way that might provoke a reaction from Keith while not disturbing Shiro's work.

"Be still," Keith scolded, not unkindly, and Lance pouted in the face of a reprimand rather than attention.

"Can't," he responded, wriggling his hips against the bed and forcing the plug inside him to move. He had almost forgotten it in the face of everything else, and its reminder was vengeful in the way it made banked arousal spike through him.

"I'll get Shiro to tie you down completely."

Lance was fully ready to believe the threat, and fully ready to jump on board, but he didn’t get the chance to say so.

"No, you won't," Shiro said, standing, his hands empty now that the bedframe was holding Lance’s wrists taut above his head. "I choose the ties."

Lance’s breath caught at the sudden tension that filled the room. He couldn’t remember a time when Shiro had openly challenged something Keith had said or done in regards to domination. They stared at one another over his body for several long moments, trapped in the new and nearly overwhelming space between instruction and practice that they had begun to dabble in.

Keith eventually backed down, giving a solemn nod as his form of deference.

"You're right. Maybe next time."

"Next time."

The agreement was easy and the tension began to bleed away. Lance's responding breath was slow and relieved, and he watched Shiro approach Keith and hold out a hand, his palm open and expressive as nothing else but a peace offering.

"Will you pass me another length of rope?"

Keith did, and Lance swallowed hard as their fingers brushed in the passing.  Every single interaction they had was charged, the energy passing almost seamlessly between them as Shiro unwound the rope and pressed the length back into Keith's palms.

"Hold this for me," he murmured. He was standing closer to Keith than was necessary, their initial rapport melding into something more tangible, more mellifluent. "Touch it. Feel the twist of the fibers and the texture of the rope and imagine how Lance is feeling it on his skin, holding him in place."

With that order, that gentle encouragement to consider his own angle of domination, Shiro turned back to Lance. His gaze was calculating as he approached, and his palms were hot as he placed them on Lance's thighs. They slid languidly up his hips, his sides, to trail back down his chest and taut stomach, which nearly quivered beneath his touch.

"Nervous?"

"A little."

"Just breathe for me," Shiro murmured, one hand curling under Lance’s left knee. He pulled up and pressed Lance's thigh forward and into his chest, gently and without forcing it. The position was easy for Lance to fold into, and his eyes fluttered closed as the shift moved the plug just enough to tease his opening with the new angle.

"Flexible."

"Like you wouldn't believe," Keith said, amusement in his voice, and Lance's breath quickened as he recalled the plenty of times they had used his flexibility and long limbs to their very lascivious advantage.

Shiro chuckled above him, the sweet sound encouraging Lance to open his eyes. His smile was tender, still, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp attention. He wrapped one firm hand around Lance's ankle, holding his leg bent in position with calf to hamstring, but allowing his hip to lower back into its natural position.

"Keith, the rope, please," Shiro asked, holding out his other hand and waiting patiently as Keith placed the folded middle in his grasp and let the rest slide to the floor with a whisper. Shiro kept eye contact with Lance, a smoldering connection and a baring of intent as Lance felt him press the loop of rope against the outside of his leg, just below his hip. Shiro wrapped the doubled length around Lance's leg, over his thigh and around to his ankle, then all the way through the beginning loop.

The rope tracked backward next, the way it had come, across his shin and upper thigh, effectively binding his leg into the folded position. Shiro continued the pattern as he worked, wrapping the rope back and forth until he was able to tie the excess in an intricate knot at the end, just above Lance's knee. The binding was firm, but not too tight, and as soon as Shiro pulled his hands away, Lance tested the hold of the rope. There was not even a single shift of fiber, absolutely no give as he strained within its grasp, and Lance finally relaxed into his bonds, letting them fully hold him together.

Shiro traced the path of the rope along his skin with the tips of his fingers, and Lance shifted, arching his back and stretching his body out as far as he could, exhibiting the one leg intricately bound and the other, absolutely untouched. Keith came to stand by Shiro's side to admire his work, his eyes tracking hungrily over his submissive.

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you," Shiro answered. "He suits rope well. Lance, does it feel too tight anywhere?"

"No, sir," Lance whispered, his hips tilting up, almost of their own accord.

"If you start to feel any tingling or numbness, tell me immediately, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Shiro smiled, bending down to place a chaste kiss between the ropes crossing Lance's thigh, making heat rush up between his hips. If his arousal hadn't been obvious before, it was now, still neglected and obscured by his underwear. Lance was half a moment away from pleading for more than just the soft brush of lips when Shiro pulled away, leaving behind the air of reluctance and the quiet promise to return.

"He's yours, then," he granted, turning to face Keith.

"He looks fantastic," Keith said. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"Will you stay?"

Silence followed the long anticipated question. Shiro looked torn, and as he glanced again at the bed and the boy stretched out on top of it, Lance could see, for the first time, true uncertainty in his gaze.

Keith placed a hand on his shoulder again, giving a comforting squeeze. "We would like you to stay. Just to watch. If you really don't want to, we won't hold it against you, and we'll never bring it up again."

"I want to stay," Shiro admitted, his own hand coming to rest on Keith's opposite shoulder, his palm nearly cupping Keith’s neck. "But I really don't know if I should."

"Why?"

"I’m your mentor-“

"Shiro, I'm not asking you to stay as a mentor. I'm asking you to stay as a friend. To be a part of the scene. I mean, if you see something really dangerous, you can step in, but this isn't about us learning now. It's about us being together and sharing it with you."

Shiro fell silent. He seemed to think about it, hard, his eyes passing between Keith and Lance as he considered each of them as individuals, and as a pair. This was the closest they had come to asking him to be with them as an equal instead of as a mentor, and while it had initially seemed to startle Shiro, somewhere in those seconds of thought, he seemed to come to a decision within himself.

Lance could see it in the way his shoulders straightened, in the way he slid his hand to the back of Keith’s neck and pulled him in to quickly press their foreheads together. It was a brief, yet intimate show of affection, and while it surprised him, Keith relaxed into it instantaneously.

"I'll stay," Shiro said as he pulled back, the charge between he and Keith seemingly strengthened by their contact. "Show me how you fuck him."

Lance's breath caught, and if he had had the wherewithal to pay attention, he would have noticed the catch of Keith's breath, too.  



	12. Chapter 12

Keith and Lance watched, mesmerized, as Shiro grasped the back of Keith's desk chair and dragged it over, out of the way but still in a spot that afforded him a clear view. He sat, his knees parted to relieve the now painfully obvious pressure between his legs, but he bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and loosely clasping his hands between them, shielding what minimal view there was.

"Pretend I'm not even here," he said, his lips turning upward in a sheepish smile.

He might as well have been asking the impossible. Although Shiro had watched them engage in sexual acts before, this was different than a partially clothed blowjob. Keith was going to fuck him right in front of Shiro, and although Lance wasn’t shy, the idea of such intimate exposure made his heart thunder in his chest.

On the verge of complete distraction and disbelief, Lance stared at Shiro, trying to memorize every minute detail. The taste of his boots still lingered on Lance’s lips, and he swept his tongue over them to revel in the fading tang of leather.

But Keith was never one to be outdone or passed over. Lance’s lidded gaze was drawn by movement, and he glanced up to see Keith pulling off his shirt, revealing a trim waist and solid abdomen, a strong chest and sturdy shoulders. Wiry and lean, Keith was far stronger than he initially seemed, and seeing the confirmation of the musculature beneath his smooth skin turned Lance's mouth dry.

"You look fantastic," Keith murmured to him, his voice low.

Lance shivered, a flush sweeping across his cheeks and down his neck. Keith's lips turned his appreciative look into a smirk, his rough fingertips drawing up the lines of rope that crossed over Lance's leg.

"Is it uncomfortable?" He asked, slipping two fingers beneath the ropes pressed against the highest point of Lance's thigh. Lance shook his head, and Keith tugged, hard, nearly lifting Lance's hips clear off the bed.

Lance swore, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip; the show of strength, coupled with the unique sensation of the rope pulling tightly against his body, made heat spark between his hips, like flint struck against tinder. His erection was more than obvious, now, and Keith was not unkind to press his palm between Lance’s legs to lazily grope him over his underwear. The touch was a relief, but after so long of going untouched and being so wound up, Lance whimpered at the sudden, overwhelming sensation.

Keith hushed him, his tone more soothing than admonishing. His touch eased up, gentler as he palmed Lance through the thin fabric. Even with the ease of the minimal contact, Lance was still coiled tighter than a spring, and he quickly began to arch his hips upward, seeking more.

"Be still," Keith scolded, even though his voice was coated with fondness. "You'll get what you want. You've been so good. Real quick before we start- Safeword?"

Lance groaned, turning his head into his arm. "Green," he answered, trying not to sound whiny. "It's green, it's always green. Yours, too?"

"Yeah."

"Then shut up and fuck me already."

Shiro's quiet laugh in the background made him blush, but he smiled, tickled by Shiro’s infectious mirth. Keith, however, seemed a little less amused. He grasped the rope again, using it as leverage to turn Lance onto his stomach, and Lance was unable to do anything except let it happen. The sense of helplessness sent a heady thrill through him as he was forced to place his physical movement and well-being wholly in Keith’s hands. Not that he wouldn’t have- He trusted Keith entirely.

Face down, unable to gain any leverage to shift himself into a more comfortable position, Lance wriggled his hips, grinding his erection against the sheets and parting his thighs for balance. The tie forced his right leg to stay in position, the heel of his foot pressed into the space just beneath the corresponding cheek of his backside. He felt exposed no matter what he did, and he buried his face into the space between his left arm and the bed to hide his embarrassment.

Keith waited patiently for him to settle before taking control again, running one hand up the back of Lance's right thigh. He swatted at Lance's ass, his palm landing squarely on his right cheek. It wasn't a terribly hard strike, but it was enough to make him jolt and grind his hips against the bed a little harder.

"Tell Shiro about your punishment," Keith said, a wicked grin in his voice as he landed another swat in the exact same spot as before.

Lance shook his head, refusing to look up even as Keith pinched the flesh at the very top of his thigh.

"C'mon. Tell him how many times I edged you."

"I don't remember," Lance whined, turning his head to the side just enough to be heard. "You... You fucked me twice, and then woke me up touching me, and you gave me another handjob before I left your place. And then I did it twice at home."

"Twice?" Keith asked, amusement threading his voice as he spanked Lance again. "All I did was text you a reminder to behave."

"I did!" Lance protested. "I didn't come, I promise. Even though I really, really wanted to."

"You had such a hard time."

Lance nodded, biting his lip to hold in the little sound drawn out by Keith's hand striking him. He was focusing completely on the right side, ignoring the left, which was partially guarded by the curve of his foot, shielding that part of his backside from Keith's sharp slaps. However, it made the other side more vulnerable, and the spanking seemed to hurt so much more concentrated in one spot. Lance struggled in his bonds, but Shiro's work held firm; no amount of pulling or fighting did anything to tighten or loosen the ropes.   
  
All his fruitless struggling did was grind his aching erection against the mattress and encourage Keith to continue his barrage. If Lance had truly wanted to, he would have been able to turn himself onto his back, to shield his ass from the sharp rain of blows, but he stayed put. He wanted to be good, to show Keith and Shiro both that he wanted to please, despite the sting of Keith's open palm against his cheek.   
  
He gave a little cry at a particularly harsh slap, his hips jerking to the side of their own volition in an attempt to escape the pain. It wasn't a dramatic movement, but it was enough of one that Keith's fingers struck the base of the plug with his next hit, nudging it forward and making Lance gasp.   
  
The spanking immediately stopped.   
  
"What’s this?" Keith asked, demanded, and his voice sent a long anticipated thrill of excited fear down Lance's spine. Keith's hand returned, exploratory now, feeling for the edge of the plug hidden beneath the dark fabric of Lance's underwear. He found it quickly, gripping the base and easing forward just enough to force a little whimper from between Lance’s lips.   
  
"Is this what I think it is?"   
  
Lance didn't have a chance to respond with any sort of coherent articulation. Keith was quick, letting go and curling his fingers into the waistband of Lance's underwear, pulling down to reveal the plug nestled between his cheeks, one untouched and the other a bright, dusky red.   
  
"Oh, my God. Shiro, are you seeing this?"   
  
Lance flushed heavily, burying his face back into the rumpled sheets. He lay still and yielding as Keith dragged his underwear off, struggling a little to get it around his bound leg. But he was exposed soon enough, with Keith's warm hands parting his cheeks to offer a better look at the plug.   
  
"Were you wearing this when you got here?" Keith asked, and Lance gave a small nod.   
  
Dissatisfied with the answer, Keith spanked him again, his bare hand on Lance's flesh creating a louder sound and a sharper sensation.   
  
It was then that Lance realized that Keith wasn't wearing any gloves.   
  
"Yes, sir," he said, turning his head again so that Keith could hear him clearly. "I put it in before I left."   
  
"Why?"   
  
Lance closed his eyes, his lips parted to accommodate how heavily his breath was coming. He felt like he had run a mile, his body tense but his mind at ease.   
  
"So that you wouldn't have to wait to prep me."   
  
Keith laughed. "You mean so that you wouldn't have to wait while I prepped you."   
  
"It benefits both of us, so I figured it would be okay."   
  
Keith's hand returned to his ass, squeezing his aching flesh with his blissfully bare palm. Skin against skin, with no barrier, no aid needed for Keith to reach his own headspace.   
  
"You're a slut, you know that, right?"   
  
Hot embarrassment flooded Lance's cheeks, sheer down to his cock, a confusing cacophony of both shame and arousal that left him feeling rattled.   
  
"Just a little," he mumbled.   
  
"Just a little?"   
  
"For you."   
  
"For Shiro, too?"   
  
Lance's tongue darted out to wet his lips, suddenly and inexplicably dry.   
  
"If he wanted."   
  
The answer seemed to satisfy Keith. Lance, however, wished he could see Shiro's face, his reaction. It was torture to not be able to gauge Shiro's receptivity by sight or sound; Shiro was still and silent, and had Lance not seen Shiro sit down with his own eyes, he would not have believed that he was really there.   
  
But he was there, somewhere behind him, and while Shiro had seen Lance in all manners of undress and submission before, this was different. This wasn’t half of a scene carried out in public.  
  
This was real.   
  
Lance let out a stuttering exhale as Keith gripped the base of the plug, tugging it just enough to test the give. It was a little less than easy, at first, and Keith was kind to work it back and forth gently enough to coax Lance’s body into relaxing.   
  
He sighed, giving himself in to the feeling of the ropes holding him together as Keith eased the plug out, the thick body of it stretching his opening wide as it passed. The plug was warm with what he knew was his own body heat, but it felt likely to burn him as Keith pulled it free.   
  
Lance felt empty, his hole gaping open and struggling to close around nothing. The excess of lubricant he had liberally coated the plug with began to seep forward, hot and thick, making him feel as though he had already been used, despite the fact that Keith had barely begun.   
  
He heard Keith murmur his appreciation, low and deliberate. His hands spread Lance further apart and held him open, watching for several long moments until Lance whimpered encouragement for him to continue. It spurred Keith into movement, and he slowly dragged his fingers through the lube that dripped from Lance's rim.   
  
The initial dip of Keith's fingers past his entrance made Lance shudder, his hands pulling tightly against the ropes. His body thrummed with titillating arousal, acutely aware of every sensation that assaulted him. From the press of soft rope against his skin, to the damp friction of the sheets against his cock, to the gentle press of Keith's fingers into his body, each point of stimulation held him suspended, drawn taut and completely at the mercy of his dominant.   
  
He must have made some sound, given some indication that he was beginning to sink too far into his headspace. Keith's fingers abandoned him, but his palm returned, striking his ass just as firmly as before, startling Lance back to the surface.   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"Be quiet."   
  
The brusque nature of the order stunned Lance into silence, and he lay obedient and still as Keith struck him several more times, effectively warming his backside and keeping Lance very much in the present. The slaps began to burn as the spanking continued, and Lance began to squirm, trying to escape Keith's harsh accuracy.   
  
"Keith-"   
  
"Hm?" His low hum was a stark contrast to Lance's breathy entreaty.   
  
"Finger me again?" He begged softly against the sheets. "Please?"   
  
"You like it when I spank you, don't you?" Keith asked, his hand soothing reddened flesh with gentle strokes.   
  
"Yes," Lance answered, rendered slightly breathless. "But... maybe not now? I'm not being punished anymore, so..."   
  
"You want me to spoil you a little?"   
  
"Please." His plea was nearly teary with his desire, with his gratitude that Keith was able to put into words exactly what he wanted.   
  
Keith didn't answer, but he leaned down, pressing a slow trail of kisses down Lance's spine. He shivered.  
  
"You know I wasn't intending to punish you," Keith murmured, his fingers returning to his hole to tease him open again. "You're being so good."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Mm-hmm."   
  
"I..." Lance flushed, hesitation softening his voice. "I like being good."   
  
Again, Keith didn't respond, but if Lance had been able to fully turn his head, he would have been treated to a tender smile.   
  
When his hands left once again, Lance lay still, waiting as patiently as he could manage as he listened carefully to Keith's movements. Footsteps, the sound of the bedside drawer opening, then closing. The rustle of foil against cardboard, the click of a plastic cap opening.   
  
Lance shifted in excitement, knowing what was to come next. He arched his back to present himself more thoroughly, melting when Keith’s fingers returned, blunt and slick with lubricant that felt maddeningly cool against his overheated skin.   
  
"Look at this," Keith murmured, the tips of his index and middle fingers dipping easily past his rim. "Two fingers right off the bat. I don't even have to do anything."   
  
It was true; Keith was able to ease his fingers inside all the way, curling them gently to brush up against that little knot of nerves that made Lance's entire body jerk. Keith's hum of laughter was accompanied by a third finger, encouraging Lance to open up even more.   
  
"You know," Lance said, breathless with desire and impatience. "The point of the plug was that you could skip this part."   
  
"So you can rob me of the pleasure of doing it myself?"   
  
Lance spluttered, caught off guard. He knew that Keith liked to make sure that he was plenty prepared first, but he felt that it always took too long, far longer than needed. He hadn't considered that Keith would enjoy the act of fingering him for what it was.   
  
"I'm not ungrateful," Lance murmured. "I just. Want you."   
  
"You have me," Keith whispered against the back of his neck, his breath hot and his lips chapped and his sentiment soft.   
  
It was a tender admission, as sweet as it was teasing. Lance arched back, his need strung tight but his muscles loose, his body relaxed into submission and the torturous preparation. He couldn't be certain which exact movement or plea persuaded Keith to remove his fingers, leaving him achingly empty, but the reassuring sound of a foil condom packet being ripped open soothed his disquietude.   
  
Lance was only a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to feel Keith come on him, but he wasn't going to argue. Especially not now, when Keith was so close, his hands spreading his cheeks wide again and dragging his cock over Lance’s gaping entrance.   
  
Lance clutched at the rope securing his wrists to the bed frame for dear life, his hips grinding back of their own accord to try for more friction. Keith hushed him, not unkindly, letting the head of his cock just breach the rim before removing it. He repeated the process, once, twice, until he deemed Lance loose enough to fully accept him. Not that he wouldn't have been- Lance had been fucked with far less preparation than this.   
  
He whined at the repetitive stretch and release, brought nearly to tears by the pleasure that eased into him but never escalated. He teetered on the verge of frustration, the edge of desperate anger from all the ruthless taunting Keith had put him through. But Keith could also read him easier than a spotlit billboard, and he soothed Lance with gentle murmurs and firm hands pressing down on his lower back as he finally, finally buried himself completely in his lover's body.   
  
Lance moaned aloud, shuddering and allowing himself to sag, boneless, into the sheets and the ropes that cradled his body. He could feel each sensation with an acute exquisiteness, from the grip of Keith's hands on his waist to each glorious inch of his cock as it ground into him. He could feel each slow pump of Keith's hips, coupled with the residual burn from the spanking and the tension in his thigh from being bound in position.   
  
He felt light headed, as if everything was buzzing softly, the only pinpoint being the join between himself and Keith, and the slow, grinding fuck that he was being treated to.   
  
He could hear himself making noise, ragged, open mouthed moans half muffled by his arms and the sheets. He called Keith's name in protest when he pulled out, but he was quickly hushed. Keith gripped the rope harnessing his leg and his opposite hip, using the leverage to bodily lift Lance up enough to turn him to one side. The new position set his bound leg in the air to be cradled against Keith's torso as he straddled Lance’s other leg and entered him again.   
  
Lance shifted, drawing his arms down as far as they would go. It placed his wrists by his mouth, his senses filled with the smell of the rope. Having his legs spread apart like this forced his back into an arch, allowing Keith to reach his prostate with more accuracy. The only downside was that he could no longer grind his cock against the sheets, but the feel of Keith steadily fucking into such a tender spot had his entire lower half shuddering into liquid, making Lance bite into the ropes around his wrists to stem his cries. It was a trade worth making.   
  
Besides.   
  
In this position, if he tilted his head down and let his eyes focus, he could see Shiro.   
  
At first glance, he seemed completely unperturbed, sitting stone still in Keith's desk chair. But as Lance watched him through half lidded eyes, he began to see certain tells that gave away Shiro's enraptured investment. His knees were parted to relieve the obvious tension of his arousal, and one hand gripped the arm rest with an intense firmness. His cheek rested on one fist, the very picture of blasé nonchalance, but his eyes were fevered in the low light. Lance imagined that he and Keith made quite a picture, and a sense of giddy smugness bubbled in his chest knowing that Shiro was this affected.   
  
Shiro's dark gaze flickered, then, his eyes meeting Lance's. He gave an odd sort of smile, a look filled with the kindness and the hunger of someone starved for something but far too polite to indulge in it.   
  
Lance opened his mouth, licking his lips with half a mind to invite Shiro closer. But his words devolved into a loud groan as Keith began to pick up the pace, each thrust rapid and hard, and Lance let the idea go, too scattered now with Keith pounding into him to properly consider his potential actions. The pace drove him hard, hammering an onslaught of pleasure, both heavy and tender, into his over sensitive body.   
  
His fingers curled helplessly into the rope leading away from his wrists, desperately grasping for some sort of traction. He could feel his pleasure rising to a head, drawing inwards like the heavy swell of a wave that just wouldn't crash. He let out a needy moan, tensing his pelvic muscles in an attempt to force his body to let go, to indulge in a long awaited release. It worked, to an extent; his hips jerked forward as some of the pent up sensation unraveled in what Lance could have only described as a miniature orgasm. Short lived but potent, it made Lance moan, loud enough to nearly drown out Keith's own vocalization.   
  
"Fuck, Lance," he cursed, his voice strained. His grip on the ropes and Lance's leg clenched, the rhythmic pistoning of his hips slowing into long, deep thrusts. "You just got so tight. Did you come?"   
  
"No," he whimpered, gasping quietly as Keith reached a hand down and in between his legs to wrap around his cock, still painfully hard. "Almost."   
  
Keith handled him with little finesse, his palm pressed solidly against his length, his thumb rubbing against the underside of the head. Lance all but sobbed, his thighs quivering violently and his body coiled tightly with desperate anticipation. He could no longer discern the speed of Keith's thrusts, nor pinpoint the specific areas of contact between them. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed, only that everything was dark and heady, and his head spun with a fervid passion.   
  
When that tall, looming wave crested, it swept through him with overwhelming vigor, and his vision went white as his body shook through his long awaited orgasm. It felt better than he could have ever expected, and he cried out with absolute ecstasy as he was overwhelmed with feeling. He could feel himself soaking Keith's hand with his spend, could feel himself clenching and fluttering around Keith's cock. He could hear Keith cursing above him as awareness slowly began to return, his senses sharpening as the last delicious aftershocks of his orgasm faded.   
  
Keith was moving slower now, the movement of his hips easing into a stop, even as he stayed fully buried inside Lance. He panted hard, his breath hot against Lance's skin, and Lance turned his head as much as he could to admire how absolutely handsome he was. His hair was wild, plastered to his neck with sweat, his chest rising and falling with each heavy intake of breath.   
  
"Did I miss it?" Lance asked, just as winded. Keith looked at him in confusion for a moment before his expression broke into laughter.   
  
"Yeah, I think so."   
  
Lance pouted, an expression that most likely looked more pathetic than anything else. But Keith smiled at him anyway, a tired and sweet smile, his hands soothing as he slowly lowered Lance's bound leg back to the bed. When he pulled out, it was gentle, and his hands were there to stroke Lance's back as he whimpered against the slick drag.   
  
He hushed Lance quietly, leaning down to pepper kisses across his shoulders and the back of his neck. "Just relax," he murmured. "Breathe for me. You okay?"   
  
"Yes," Lance answered with a long sigh. "I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. But I'm so good."   
  
"You did so good."   
  
"Thank you."   
  
Keith kissed his cheek. "I'm going to clean up. You ready for Shiro to untie you?"   
  
"Please," Lance said. He was more than ready to stretch out by now, his body beginning to protest being held so tightly in the same position.   
  
But when Keith stood and began to walk away, Lance regretted letting him leave so soon. He felt alone suddenly, left tied up amidst the rumpled sheets, and a lonely anxiety began to well up in his chest. But just before he could beg for Keith to come back, Shiro was leaning over him.   
  
"Hey," he said softly, his hand warm as it carded through his hair. "You did so good, Lance."   
  
"You think so?" Lance whispered, looking up at him with wide, almost dreamy eyes, instantly calmed by Shiro’s presence.   
  
"Of course," Shiro answered, his hands resting atop the rope against Lance’s thigh. He began to untie the knots, loosening the ropes and carefully unravelling them from Lance's skin.   
  
He felt heavy, pleasantly exhausted, and his skin prickled with the friction of the texture as Shiro dragged the ropes free, the tails pooling by his hip. They were gone before too long, and Shiro tapped his hip, encouraging Lance to turn onto his back. He obeyed, finding himself treated to Shiro’s strong hand encircling his ankle to gently draw his leg out, slowly stretching the tight muscles. Lance groaned at the feeling, pleasant soreness already beginning to settle in his hip and thigh, down to his knee. Shiro placed his leg down onto the bed with care before circling around to kneel down by the bed frame. He freed the rope from the frame first, letting Lance draw his hands downward towards his chest.   
  
Shiro knelt on the edge of the bed, and Lance sat up, further rumpling the sheets as he scooted closer to Shiro. He held out his hands, and Shiro untied him with a fastidious tenderness, making sure to rub his wrists and palms, soothing the tingly, residual pressure the ropes had left.   
  
"Thank you," Lance murmured softly, glancing up to meet Shiro's eyes.   
  
He smiled, reaching out to just brush the backs of his fingers against Lance's cheek.   
  
"Of course. Thank you for letting me stay and watch. You were beautiful."   
  
Lance flushed. "Do you... Need anything?"   
  
Shiro shook his head. "No, but thank you. You're sweet."  
  
"Isn't he?" Keith asked, crawling up onto the bed behind Lance. He wrapped his arms around him, pressing more kisses against his cheek. Lance melted into the embrace, leaning back heavily against Keith's chest.   
  
Shiro nodded in agreement. "Thank you," he said to Keith. "For letting me stay."   
  
"Any time. I enjoyed having you."   
  
"Me, too," Lance said, offering a smile that Shiro returned.   
  
They sat in the comfortable haze of silence for a few moments, each enjoying the heavy air, the warmth of their proximity, the ease with which they all felt basking in each other's company.   
  
"Do you need to go clean up?" Keith spoke first, gently prompting Lance. He sighed, but nodded, and Keith let him go. He helped Lance to stand on wobbly legs, drawing him close for a long kiss before urging him towards the door. 

The trip to the bathroom felt hazy, and Lance relied mostly on muscle memory to guide him through the routine of brushing his teeth and washing his face. Clean up took a little more concentration, and he was incredibly grateful to Keith for deciding on using a condom.   
  
Although he was exhausted from the scene, he felt good, fresh and pleasantly worn. He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror, the sight of his reddened ass and the echo of rope imprints on his skin making his lips turn upwards in delight.   
  
He started to grow cold, though, surrounded by bathroom tile and still riding on the dreamy fog of submission. He turned off the bathroom light and stepped out into the hall, fully intending to return to Keith's bedroom and deposit himself into the first available lap he came across, but the sound of Shiro's voice made him pause just outside.   
  
"- ask you something?"   
  
"Sure."   
  
Lance stilled, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall beside the door frame, curiosity getting the better of him.   
  
"What would you have done if I had refused? Or left?"   
  
"What do you mean?" Keith's voice asked.   
  
"Lance's punishment ended when he apologized to me and I accepted it. If I had safeworded, or just refused to participate and left, how would you have handled it? I'm curious."   
  
Lance was, too. He hadn't seriously considered the possibility that Shiro would turn them down flat, let alone how it would impact the game Keith had orchestrated.   
  
Keith was silent for a moment, but when he spoke, his tone was confident.   
  
"I mean, I thought about it. Lance would have been disappointed, and I would have distracted or comforted him until he felt up to engaging in a scene. And then I would have played it out the same, as if you had accepted."   
  
Shiro's responding laugh was quiet. "I'm glad he wouldn't have suffered too much."   
  
"Nah," Keith said, fondness coloring his voice. "He likes it. I wouldn't knowingly take it farther than he could handle."   
  
Lance smiled, his chest bubbling with warm affection. Keith was too good to him. Satisfied, he began to push himself off the wall to return to the bedroom when Shiro spoke again.   
  
"I'm also curious about... Well. How you feel about this."   
  
"About what?"   
  
A moment of silence passed, and when Shiro continued, it was with the delicacy of a man trying very hard not to overstep his boundaries.   
  
"We're both very aware of how Lance feels, right? About me."   
  
Keith must have nodded, because Shiro pressed on.   
  
"It doesn't seem like you're angry about it. But I also remember that you were very against the idea of Lance playing with anyone else when we were at Altea. I'm just wondering how you're feeling about this."   
  
There was a moment of quiet. "Are you asking if I'm upset that he's into you?"   
  
"More or less."   
  
After a brief pause, Keith let out a little huff of laughter. "How can I be upset when I'm in the same boat that he is?" 

Oh.  
  
"Oh."   
  
Lance felt very much the same sense of surprise that Shiro expressed. But it quickly formed into an elated sense of giddiness. He knew he hadn't been imagining the magnetism between them, and he felt incredibly validated to have his suspicion confirmed outright.  
  
"Keith, I-" Shiro paused. "I like you, and I like Lance, too. But I haven't been in a relationship in a very long time, or a good one at that. I think that maybe you and he should talk and decide what it is the two of you want from me. I can be content with whatever you choose, but I don't think I can take it to keep playing like this and not knowing where it's going to go."   
  
"That's fair," Keith said, sounding contrite. "We haven't exactly been subtle. Or considerate."   
  
"It's okay," Shiro said. "I just-"   
  
Cold and touch starved from standing in the hallway and eavesdropping, Lance decided that now was a good a time as any to return to them. The conversation had begun to turn a little more somber than he would like for the end of a successful scene, and he was long overdue for some kisses. They could all talk later about their emotions and relationships and desires.   
  
He stumbled into the bedroom with a well timed yawn, bending gingerly to fish his underwear and someone's t-shirt from the floor.   
  
"What are you guys talking about?" He asked innocuously, pulling the shirt over his head. It was Keith's- it smelled intoxicatingly strong with his scent.   
  
"About how good and well behaved you were," Keith said, holding his arms out for Lance to settle into. Clever bastard. Lance tucked his face against his neck with a contented smile. "How do you feel? Anything hurt?"   
  
"No," he answered truthfully. "Achy in a couple places but nothing bad."   
  
"Anything you didn't like?"   
  
He shook his head.   
  
"Anything you liked in particular?"   
  
"Yes," Lance answered with a satisfied sigh. "I really liked the ropes. And I liked Shiro being here."  
  
"Me, too," Keith murmured against his hair.

“I liked kissing his boots,” Lance whispered conspiratorially, loud enough for Shiro to hear.

“I can very honestly say that I liked watching you kiss his boots,” Keith responded, the both of them eying Shiro for his reaction.

His gaze was bright with mirth, his grin doing nothing to conceal the open lust apparent in his body language. But he said nothing, keeping the overly conscious and polite distance he had imposed upon himself.    
  
"What about you?" Keith asked Shiro, his tone diplomatic and soothing. He had already come so far from the unsure, scattered dominant that he had first been at Altea. "Do you need any aftercare from us?"   
  
Shiro's responding smile was painfully sweet. "I don't need any," he said. "I just enjoyed watching the two of you in your natural setting."   
  
"It was nice," Lance answered, melting further against Keith. "I'm tired."   
  
"I bet you are," Shiro said, standing. "I'm gonna go. I have to work in the morning and you two deserve a good rest."   
  
Lance groaned but stood on still quivering knees, Keith close behind him. "Thanks again for staying," he said, shuffling forward to embrace Shiro fully.   
  
He was tense, at first, but his posture eased as he wrapped his arms around Lance in return. He smelled like cologne, something subtle and a little salty. Lance really would not have minded falling asleep on that chest, even standing up. But he reluctantly pulled away, stepping back to let Keith take his place. They embraced, too, warmly, and Lance couldn't help but notice that Shiro's demeanor seemed to be more relaxed after the touches.   
  
They helped Shiro pick up the lengths of rope and walked him to the door, Lance ensuring that he had all his things and Keith placing an amiable hand on his shoulder in parting. Closing the door behind Shiro was hard, and as nice as it was to tumble bonelessly into bed after a hard scene, they couldn't help but think that there was enough space between the sheets for three. 


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Keith’s greeting was sweet, and Lance sat up with a grin, making room for Keith to sit on the couch next to him. Keith tossed the box of leftover pizza on the coffee table and held out one arm, letting Lance snuggle up against his side.

“You smell like motor oil,” Lance complained, even as he tilted his head closer to rest his cheek on the juncture of Keith’s neck and shoulder.

“Yeah. I just left work because I wanted to see you, asshole,” Keith replied, his arm winding around Lance’s shoulders affectionately. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” Lance whined. “I went to all my classes today and started homework stuff even though you wore me out last night.”

Keith chuckled warmly, his throat vibrating with the sound. “Good boy.”

“I am,” Lance agreed, taking the moment to gloat just a little. He groaned dramatically as he sat up to reach over to the pizza box and open it; the contents were about equal in terms of pepperoni and mushroom, and he got up to toss a few slices into the microwave.

Keith turned his head to watch Lance walk through the small college apartment, an odd, searching look in his eyes.

Lance eyed him as he poured two cups of Gatorade, but waited patiently for Keith to speak up on his own. If he pushed, he ran the risk of Keith shutting down. But if he let it be, and if it was important enough, Keith would come around on his own.

It took up until Lance had dragged two slices of pizza each onto a plate, placed them on the coffee table, and returned to the kitchenette for the Gatorade before Keith spoke.

“Hey. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?” Lance answered, trying for a cool and collected persona as he lifted the two cups, a little quicker than he expected. Blue liquid sloshed against the sides of the cups, but thankfully didn’t spill. He waited for Keith to continue, to confirm Lance’s suspicion that the topic of conversation was what he had overheard the night before.

But Keith, the bastard, waited until Lance was settled back down beside him to continue.

“It’s about Shiro,” he began, taking one of the cups and staring into it. His fingers left mildly grimy smudges on the sides, oil and grease left over from work. He hadn’t paused for a moment, hurtling straight to Lance’s apartment and diving right into talking. It must have been eating him alive.

Lance waited patiently, albeit nervously, for Keith to gather enough courage to press on.

“I know that you like him,” Keith said with a sigh, lifting one hand to run it through his hair, already a mess. He barreled forward before Lance could protest, cutting him off with a slightly raised tone. “It’s just that, I like him, too. And when you went to clean up last night, we talked a little.”

Lance clamped his mouth shut and decided very firmly that he wouldn’t admit to his eavesdropping, not if Keith would tell him freely.

“He said that…” Keith paused, staring at the space on the couch between them. “He said that he didn’t want to play with us again unless we told him what we wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

Keith inhaled slowly, and Lance could almost see the machinery whirring in his head as he tried to come up with the right words.

“I guess it means that he wants to know our intentions. Like, if we just want to include him in scenes or have him be something else.”

“Oh,” Lance said dumbly. “We’ve kinda been toying with him, haven’t we?”

Keith nodded slowly, and a spell of silence settled between them. Lance took a sip of Gatorade, his gaze lingering on Keith’s hand. He could see the grit under Keith’s fingernails, and his own hands itched to grab his manicure brush and scrub his boyfriend’s nails clean. Instead, he reached out to curl his fingers around Keith’s and gave a gentle squeeze.

“What if we…” Lance began, the suggestion starting as a dry whisper on his lips. “What if we asked him to join us?”

Keith glanced up at him, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” Lance swallowed. “All three of us together. We could both date him, you know? And still have each other. ‘Cause I love you, you know? I want us to stay together still, but he just. Fits in with us so well.”

“He does,” Keith agreed quietly, squeezing Lance’s hand back.

“And he just seems so lonely, don’t you think?”

Keith nodded, and Lance was sure that he didn’t imagine the note of sadness that flickered through his gaze.

“It won’t be easy,” Keith said, a little more firmly. “It isn’t like me and you stumbling around and figuring out what we want. If we do this, and he agrees, we have to be open all the time, communicate all the time, tell everyone what we do and don’t want. How do we even start?”

Lance bit at his bottom lip as he thought, unsure of how to progress. But Lance was nothing if not a genius, and he couldn’t help but smile a little as he gripped Keith’s hand tighter.

“I think I have an idea.”

***

“Didn’t you guys fill one of these out already?” Hunk asked, handing the sheet of paper to Lance as they claimed a table near the copier in the library.

“Yeah,” Lance answered, taking it and stacking it with two creased versions of the same form. “It’s for something else.”

“Like what?” Hunk drawled, resting one cheek on his fist as he watched Lance glance over the wrinkled papers.

“Like…” Lance pressed them down and attempted to smooth them out on the table. “Keith and I are going to ask Shiro to date us. And that kind of thing makes even easy stuff complicated, so I thought, hey, the negotiation form we filled out at Altea might just be a great starting point. Except with relationship stuff instead of sex stuff.”

He flushed lightly as he spoke, turning towards the copier and swiping his school card. He opened the top of the copier and placed Keith’s original negotiation sheet inside first. Might as well make copies for Shiro to have… Just in case.

“Hold up now, wait just a sec,” Hunk said, staring at Lance. “You mean MY Shiro? Like, I work with him on weekends Shiro? Tall, ripped, biceps like a god?”

“Yeah, that Shiro.”

Hunk was silent for a moment, the only sound being the copier scanning Lance’s negotiation sheet, covered in his sprawling handwriting.

“Good for you, my man,” Hunk said eventually. “Honestly, I’ve never seen the guy go on a date or anything. Bully him into doing something fun for once. But be nice, I guess.”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice?” Lance scoffed, switching out his sheet for the blank one Hunk had brought him. He selected three copies, then turned to face Hunk, crossing his arms. “It’s Keith you should be worried about.”

Hunk laughed, leaning back in his chair and regarding Lance with a fond look. “For real, though, the negotiation sheet is a good idea.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s a good jumping off point, and it’s something familiar to all three of you. Best of luck, man.”

“Thanks, Hunk.”

***

While Lance was in charge of making copies of the negotiation sheet for the three of them to fill out, the task of actually inviting Shiro to dinner fell to Keith. It made the most sense- Keith was the one who had initially spoken with Shiro about their relationship. On top of that, there seemed to be a close knit sense of rapport between the two of them, a mutual understanding and physical closeness that Lance had never before seen Keith engage in.

A loner, Keith often kept to himself, holding his cards very close to his chest. Shiro was the first person that Lance knew of that was so easily able to pull him out of his tense shell. Part of Lance wanted to feel jealous. It had taken him weeks, if not months, to coax Keith into letting him close. But he couldn’t even consider being envious, not when Keith was so happy, so relaxed between the influence of the two of them.

However.

It was nearing the end of Tuesday night, and Lance still hadn’t received any word. Did Keith message Shiro privately? Had he not done it at all? Lance groaned, collapsing onto his bed. The wait was killing him, his head spinning with the possible outcomes of the date, if it even happened. What if Shiro rejected them? Worse, what if he said yes?

His phone began to buzz in earnest, and in his haste to answer it, he nearly flung it across the room. But the picture that greeted him on the screen wasn’t Keith, or Shiro’s- it was his mother.

“Hi, mami,” he said, relaxing back against the bed with a soft exhale.

“Hi, baby,” her warm voice said, and despite his initial twinge of disappointment, it felt good to speak to her, to hear the robust sound of Spanish in his ear and to respond in kind. “How are you?”

“Good, really good,” he answered truthfully. “Classes aren’t too busy that I can’t keep up.”

“I’m glad. You’ve been spending time with Keith?”

“Yeah. We’re trying to plan a date later this week.”

“Is he coming next time you visit?”

Lance smiled at the thought. Lance had a big family, and Keith had only his dad. It would definitely be a culture shock for him to be welcomed by the warm intensity of a Cuban family.

“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll be coming for the Thanksgiving break, it’s only four days. But maybe Christmas.”

“Christmas would be better. Your aunt wants to host a Thanksgiving party, so we’re going to go. Help her cook.”

“Which one?”

“Gabriela.”

“Ah, I’m jealous! She’s the best cook. Besides you.””

His mother laughed. “Don’t be jealous, baby. We miss you, but don’t push yourself to come so far. Cook something nice in the apartment. And feed Keith, he’s so thin.”

“That’s just how he looks.”

His mother made a disapproving sound. She had only ever seen pictures of Keith, but she still insisted that he mustn’t be eating properly. He probably wasn’t, but then again, neither was Lance.

Luckily, his mother didn’t start to harp on him. She simply stated that she wanted to meet Keith very much, and Lance was making a sound in agreement when he was startled by his phone buzzing with a message.

His heart began to stutter as he realized that it must be the text from Keith.

“Hey, mami?” He began, turning over onto his stomach as his phone buzzed again in reply. Maybe from Shiro.

“Yes, baby?”

“If Keith and I come for Christmas… Can I maybe bring another friend, too?”

“Who? Hunk?”

“No, no. Not that I wouldn’t, but you know his moms would throw down if I tried to keep him to myself for the holiday.”

“Another friend of yours?”

“Yeah, Keith and I have been hanging out with him a lot. I don’t know, he might have plans already, but I wanted to clear with you before asking him.”

His mother made a thoughtful sound. “Does your friend not have family, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, realizing that he knew very little about Shiro’s home life.

“Alright. Well, he’s welcome! I’ll trust your judgement. Just let me know.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you again soon.”

“Talk to you soon.”

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you, mami. Bye.”

Lance hung up, a smile lingering on his face. He always felt refreshed after speaking with his mom, and he felt calmer, more confident as he opened his text messages.

 **Keith**  
_hey, Shiro. Lance and I were thinking about getting dinner on Thursday. You should come with us_

**Shiro  
** _That sounds nice. As long as it’s after 6, I can make it. I’m looking forward to seeing the two of you._

Lance grinned, joy bubbling up in his chest as he typed back a string of heart emojis, hardly able to express his excitement in coherent form. It was the thrill of a first date, paired with the elation of being able to share such an event, such a feeling, with his partner. How odd, how unique, to be able to share the fizzling delight of new love with two, one an established lover, and the other the very object of the infant adoration himself.

***

They opted to let Shiro choose the restaurant. Even as the pickier of the two, Lance agreed that it was only fair. Besides, it granted them an opportunity to get to know Shiro a little better, to experience his tastes.    
  
He decided on a Thai restaurant some ways uptown, a low building surrounded by trees and complete with a small pond in front. While the outside was quaint and unassuming, the inside was lavish, dripping with rich decor. The lacquered wood of the booth where they were seated was intricately carved, and over Shiro's head, Lance could see the shoulders and headdress of a large Buddha statue.   
  
"This place is awesome," he said, looking up at the delicate brass bells that dangled from the ceiling.   
  
Shiro nodded, opening his menu with the familiarity of someone who already knows it by heart. "I love it. Everything is to die for. Allura and I come for lunch sometimes."   
  
"Secret business stuff?"   
  
Shiro laughed, a bright, charming sound.   
  
"We just talk shit."   
  
Even Keith smiled at that, strung out as he was on nerves. Lance recalled their own first date, how Keith had seemed so standoffish, even borderline aggressive. He raised a hand to card through Keith's hair, twirling a lock around his fingers absently.   
  
"What would you recommend?" Lance asked, his hand dropping to rub the back of Keith's neck.   
  
"Depends on what you like," Shiro answered, his gaze darting surreptitiously between them. "All of the sushi is fantastic, and I personally like the pad see-ew and the hot noodles."   
  
Lance nodded, looking down at the descriptions in the menu. He could feel Keith relax a little under his hand, enough that he leaned over to look at Lance's menu, despite having his own. Lance kept up the gentle ministrations, making sure not to catch or pull the hair at the base of his skull. His goal was to soothe, after all. Keith was easy to startle into shutting down, and that kind of reaction wouldn’t serve any of them well at all.  
  
The waiter came by a few minutes after they had been seated, and once they had placed orders and a round of Thai tea had been brought, there was nothing else to do but wait and enjoy the atmosphere and the company.   
  
Keith and Lance had agreed beforehand that they would wait until after the meal to bring up the matter of their relationship, just in case it ended less than favorably. But now, as they sat stalled in anticipatory silence, Lance decided to throw caution to the wind and dug a hand into his pocket. He pulled out the sheaf of folded up papers, dropping them onto the table and unfolding them with a hesitant sort of gusto.   
  
A glance at Keith revealed eyes as wide as the plates in front of them, expression incredulous, his lips poised to admonish Lance for the sudden acceleration of events.   
  
"So," Lance began quickly, looking to head off any protests. "After last time, which was awesome, by the way, Keith and I started thinking." He placed the papers in small piles, sorted by his and Keith's original negotiation forms, their new, freshly penned forms, and the blank ones. "And we talked about it, and we thought that, shit. The both of us really like you, you know? And it seems a little unfair that we're into you, but you never get to really participate with us or anything, so we came to the conclusion that you should just date us. Problems solved."   
  
The abject expression of mortified horror on Keith's face would have been funny, if it hadn't been echoed on Shiro’s.   
  
"Lance," he started, his voice sounding a little strangled. "I don't think-"   
  
"Because it's, like-" Lance barreled forward, his own pounding heart leading him to try and bully all opposition from the conversation. But he had tried that before, hadn't he? In Shiro's car, a little argument over a single kiss, and look where that had gotten them. He paused, shame turning his cheeks pink. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you."   
  
"It's okay," Shiro responded earnestly, leaning forward a little. "I was just going to say that... I don't think that a polyamorous relationship is going to solve any problems. It will probably just create more."   
  
"Probably," Lance agreed. "But Keith and I talked about it and we want to do it. We want to face those problems with you. And we came prepared." He placed a hand flat on the stack of papers in the middle of the table, bringing Shiro's attention to them.   
  
"What are these?"   
  
"These are the negotiation forms that a very wise mentor made us fill out. They're for kinky stuff, it's called BDSM, you've probably never heard of it…"

  
The smile he earned from Shiro and the pinch he got from Keith made the joke worth it.   
  
"But we thought that maybe. We could take the forms and repurpose them a little. Write down our limits relationship wise, so we can draw some clear boundaries right off the bat."   
  
"No sex for right now," Keith added. "This form is just for everyday things. I don't like to have my ass groped in public, so that went right under my hard limits. I like swimming dates. We can call those... I don't know. Green limits."   
  
Shiro listened carefully to every word they said, staring hard at the papers, not moving as silence fell across the table.   
  
"We filled them out separately. They're there for you to look at," Lance added softly.   
  
Shiro took a breath, and held it for a moment. When he let it go, it was with a sheepish smile on his face as he glanced at them. "Are you sure you don't just want to be friends with benefits?"   
  
Lance turned to Keith, his mouth half open, unsure of how to respond. This was something they had considered, but...  
  
Keith kept his eyes on Shiro, collected now after the initial startle of having the conversation sprung on him. Lance was immensely grateful; he had run the risk of alienating Keith by starting so suddenly. "If that's what you want, we would be willing," he said, his tone even. "But we talked it over and we decided that we would want all of it. Sex, dates, relationships, whatever. We wanna be in that with you, but it's your decision."   
  
Shiro was quiet, then, and a weight settled over the three as he seemed to deliberate, struggling over an unfathomable number of things within himself.   
  
Lance was opening his mouth to rescind every single thing they had said when Shiro spoke.   
  
"I... I like you two. A lot," he began. "But I feel like we don't know each other as well as we could. And it makes me wary of committing, even though I feel inclined to. I'm drawn to you." He paused, reaching out to take the little stack of papers that had been offered. "Can I think about it? And let you know?"   
  
Lance nodded vigorously, as Keith reached across the table to briefly grasp Shiro's hand. "No pressure. We'll respect any decision you make."   
  
"Thank you."   
  
He looked relieved, somehow, as he folded the papers and tucked them into his pocket. It didn't feel as though he had rejected them, but nervous jitters still twisted Lance's stomach. He wondered if Keith felt the same.   
  
The tenuous emotion surrounding them was short-lived, though. The waiter returned to the table with a large tray, and the atmosphere quickly shifted with the presence of food. Plates and chopsticks were passed around, and pleasantries exchanged with the waiter before he left, leaving them to their business.   
  
"Shiro," Lance said, gesturing to the opposite side of the table. "Would you pass me the soy sauce?"   
  
Shiro offered a smile as he did, glancing between him and Keith.   
  
"I think I would like it if the two of you called me Takashi."   
  
Their expressions must have been impressive, because Shiro laughed outright. "Shiro is a nickname, you know. You don't have to use my given name, I just figured I'd throw it out there."   
  
"And that's okay?" Keith asked.   
  
"Yeah," Shiro answered, his expression relaxed and fond. "I don't subscribe to a lot of the Japanese cultural norms I was brought up with, but a given name still feels a little intimate to me. And I'm more than happy to share it with you."   
  
Lance felt his heart flutter in his chest, and had he been allowed, he would have kissed Shiro right then and there, just for being a tender sap.   
  
"That's gay," he managed to stutter instead, making Shiro laugh.   
  
"Guess so," he teased, and this time, the silence that fell was amiable as they ate.   
  
***  
As far as Lance knew, he was the first to arrive at Altea. It was a crisp night, the chill of fall beginning to truly settle in the air and the trees, turning the leaves a warm mixture of orange, yellow, and red. Campus was littered with them, but the parking lot of Altea was clear of foliage, leaving nothing but the asphalt to crunch under Lance's shoes.   
  
He hadn't seen Keith's bike or Shiro's sedan in the parking lot as he arrived, but he still made a point to ask Coran as he checked his ID at the entrance. Unnecessary by this point, but a habit and a chance to socialize.   
  
"No, Shiro isn't here yet. I'm not sure if he's going to come tonight or not."   
  
Lance frowned. "Doesn't he have DM shift tonight?"   
  
Coran shook his head, tugging thoughtfully on his mustache. "He swapped with Hunk. Allura held a seminar earlier this week and Hunk had something come up, so Shiro assisted with that if Hunk took his shift tonight."   
  
"Oh," Lance said, trying not to sound disappointed. He and Keith hadn't heard from him since their date, and Lance had been banking on seeing him tonight.   
  
"Don't fret!" Coran clapped Lance on the shoulder. "He usually comes to 'hang out.’ Besides," he offered with a wink. "Our Number One's been worlds more relaxed since you and your beau have been coming around."   
  
"You think so?"   
  
"Of course! Shiro is rare to engage in play with anyone that isn't Allura, and he only really does it for demonstration purposes." Coran waggled his eyebrows. "More people turn up if the model is a modern Adonis, you know."   
  
Lance clutched his chest, twisting his expression into one of false grief.   
  
"And I was never invited? You would deprive me of such a sight?"   
  
Coran laughed. "The events are listed on our Fetlife page, my dear boy. Now shoo. I believe Hunk is in the second room."   
  
Shaking his head fondly, Lance made his way towards the entrance Coran had gestured to. There wasn't much of a crowd just yet, the cooler weather seeming to have made everyone a little slow and sluggish.   
  
Hunk was not immediately visible in the second room, but his robust voice soon carried out from the open closet door. Lance poked his head inside, grinning at Hunk and the girl he stood with.   
  
"Hey, Lance," he greeted warmly, stepping over to haul Lance into a secure one armed hug. "This is Shay. You might have seen her around."   
  
He had; Hunk had been with her several times before that Lance had noticed, but he had been a little too preoccupied to really pay attention. She was beautiful, with a broad frame and a sweet face, and she shook his hand enthusiastically.   
  
"It's awesome to meet you," Lance said.   
  
"Oh, the same to you," she replied. "Hunk talks about you a lot."   
  
"Only the bad things, right?"   
  
She laughed, and Hunk amiably punched him in the shoulder. "There's only bad things," he drawled, the punch turning into an amicable squeeze. "We're gonna go. Keith coming?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Cool. Have fun!"   
  
"Bye."   
  
And with that, he was alone in the closet, surrounded by the myriad of supplies and implements that Altea provided. Lance reached out, brushing his fingertips along a row of floggers, admiring the supple leather thongs and how they swayed with movement. He hadn't felt one yet.   
  
He wanted to.   
  
The collars hung to the right of the floggers, and took a slow step that way, reaching out to touch. He liked wearing them. The feeling of locking one around his neck and being able to give everything up was intoxicating. He could exchange his submission for being cared for, for not having to think, and while he could make that exchange regardless, the collar certainly added an element of depth.   
  
He took one from the rack, medium in width and sporting an O-ring at the front. A heavy buckle cinched the back, and Lance slowly slid it open. The inside was worn smooth, the leather soft and inviting, and Lance closed his eyes as he brought it up to his throat, reaching back to secure the collar around his neck.   
  
He should wait for Keith, he knew that much. But he couldn't help it, not surrounded by the smell of leather and the relaxed, welcoming atmosphere of the club.   
  
Lance signed out the collar from the clipboard on the front door and left, wandering back into the main room to settle on the couch where they usually met, watching the other people there with a lazy curiosity.   
  
He was comfortable here now, even alone. He knew he was safe, in a space where he could indulge certain proclivities without being judged. Even Hunk, who knew him outside of Altea, wouldn't think twice about seeing him wearing a collar, and that was the kind of acceptance that he marveled at. He admired Allura and Shiro for the environment they had fostered so lovingly here.  
  
He leaned back into the couch, watching Allura speak animatedly with a couple across the room. They seemed excited, and Lance felt happy as he looked at them, as he waited for his own lover.   
  
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. Keith's hands were cold as they squeezed his shoulders from behind, and Lance tipped his head back to gaze up at him.   
  
"Hi."   
  
"Getting started without me?"   
  
"Not a chance."   
  
Keith smiled, his hair hanging loose around his face. It looked freshly washed, and Lance couldn't resist reaching up to twirl a lock around his finger.   
  
"I ran into Shiro in the parking lot," Keith said, his hands sliding up to rest on either side of the collar. "He wants to talk to us in his office."   
  
Lance suddenly felt as though he had swallowed a rock. His stomach twisted itself into a solid knot, and he dropped his hand.   
  
"Now?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
He took a steadying breath and stood, circling the couch to take Keith's proffered hand. He was glad that Keith seemed to remember the way; Lance wasn't sure if he would have been able to focus enough to find it. Keith said nothing, but Lance was sure that he could hear his heart pounding hard in his chest. He wondered if Keith was feeling the same, if the crushing grip on Lance's hand was anything to go by.

Shiro's office looked just as he remembered, and Shiro sat behind his desk in an unassumingly civilian athletic jacket. His hair was tousled, pushed back as though he had been running his hands through it. 

"Hey, guys," he greeted warmly, his smile genuine even though his eyes seemed worn. "Have a seat."

They did, Lance reluctant to let go of Keith's hand. He could feel tension in the room, born from the unspoken knowledge that this was it. Lance felt foolish suddenly, for wearing the collar, and he reached back to unbuckle it, trying not to let it clink as he lowered it into his lap. 

When he looked up again, Shiro was watching him. 

"I had a really good time on our date," he began, reaching down and pulling up his laptop bag, sifting through it until he found the folded stack of papers that Lance and Keith had given him. "And I thought about your offer." 

He separated the sheets into two piles, and handed one to each of them. Lance tried to take his with grace.

"Copies of my forms are there. I did one for the relationship and one for sexual scenarios, when we get there."

Lance blinked. 

"I have a couple of things that I've written, that you can read, but that I want to discuss out loud." 

A quick glance revealed that Keith looked just as shell shocked as Lance felt. 

"I think it's important, if we're going to do this, for us to be able to spend one on one time, but that the other should be made aware of it. At least to start. I'm okay with public displays of affection, as long as they aren't excessive. I don't mind you discussing this on social media, but please keep pictures of my face or other identifying qualities to a minimum, please, unless you clear it with me. This is for personal reasons, and I can explain more later, if you require that." 

A bout of stunned silence followed as the three stared at each other, each trying to process in his own way the sudden change in their relationship. 

"That's- That's all completely reasonable," Lance stammered as Keith stood up, always more inclined to action than words. He leaned directly over the desk, reaching out to place a hand on the back of Shiro's neck to boldly draw him in for a kiss, short but passionate. 

"Thank you," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Shiro's. Shiro closed his eyes in return, a smile playing on his lips. 

"For what?"

"For saying yes. For being patient with us. For giving us the chance." 

"Of course." 

Keith pulled back, and the pair turned their gazes to Lance. Shiro held out his arms, beckoning warmly, and Lance obediently rose to circle the desk, letting himself be pulled down onto Shiro's lap and kissed. 

It was better than he imagined it would be, soft and dry and impossibly warm, and he would be a liar if his eyes weren't stinging, just a little. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I thank you all for your patience and support!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Aseo25, whose incredibly sweet and poignant message made me feel inspired and confident enough to continue with this, even though it's been hard. Thank you.

It felt surreal, to be gently prodded off of Shiro's lap. He felt hyper aware of everything as he stood and backed away enough to allow Shiro to circle the desk.   
  
"Want to go hang out in the main room?" He asked, and Lance mirrored Keith's nod of agreement.   
  
They walked together, in sync as if they had done it before, with Shiro in the middle. Lance threaded his fingers with Shiro's, relishing in the little squeeze he received in return. He didn't have to look to know that Shiro's other hand was unoccupied; holding hands with Keith had been a hard won victory. It would happen, but not just yet.   
  
Keith passed through the doorway into the main room first, but Lance lingered. Their connected hands drew Shiro to a pause as well, and he glanced over to the open collar in his hand.   
  
"You can put it back on, if you like."   
  
Lance looked up at Shiro, ready to ask if it was okay. But the question died quickly on his lips. He could see the answer, see that he would be accepted regardless.   
  
"Yeah," he said, letting go of Shiro's hand. He lifted the collar, intending to put it on himself, but Shiro stopped him.   
  
"May I?" He asked, gently taking the collar from Lance, and taking the small nod for the open permission that it was.   
  
Shiro's hands were warm. The leather of the collar was warm, too, as it was pressed against his throat. Not too tight, but not too loosely, either, just perfect enough. Lance tilted his head down a little to allow Shiro to buckle the collar, feeling himself relax under it and under Shiro's hands as they settled on his shoulders.   
  
"Keith," Shiro said softly, drawing Lance's attention to their audience. "Let me see your gloves."   
  
Keith said nothing, nor did his expression change as he dug his gloves from his pocket and handed them to Shiro, who took them and tenderly smoothed them out. He took Keith's hands, one by one, to tug the gloves on and lovingly strap them around his wrists.   
  
It felt wildly intimate, for Shiro to dress them in tokens symbolic of their place in the scene. Before, he had simply guided them, reeled ever closer by their insistence, until he was here between them, giving so much by just trusting them.   
  
"Do you have something?" Keith asked, and Shiro shook his head sheepishly.   
  
"I don't use anything to get into a headspace," he said. "Unless I'm submitting, but. It's rare these days."   
  
Keith nodded, a thoughtful look shading his eyes, but Lance didn't get time to study it. Keith led them out into the main area, passing by several groups and acquaintances on the way to the couch that had become their favored spot. Shiro and Lance sat, Lance crowding into Shiro’s side, but Keith remained standing.   
  
“I’m gonna go... talk to Allura,” he said vaguely, and with that, he was gone into the quickly growing crowd.   
  
A tense moment passed, Shiro stiff beside him, and Lance tossed his legs over Shiro’s lap to distract him.   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured. “Keith gets overwhelmed sometimes, and he has to walk away. It doesn’t mean anything.”   
  
Shiro turned his attention to Lance, his gaze searching.   
  
“I don’t want this to be a mistake.”   
  
Lance smiled, reaching out to touch his cheek. “It won’t be. Keith is weird, you know? He has some quirks, but they’re often coping methods. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”   
  
“You know him well.”   
  
Lance laughed. “Yeah, but it wasn’t easy getting there.”   
  
“How did you meet?”   
  
Lance tipped his head to rest it on Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m a college student. You’ve seen my car, it’s a piece of junk. Well, I start smelling maple syrup around it, and Hunk tells me to take it to a mechanic. I do a Google search, pick a place with good reviews, and cart my ass and my sorry excuse for a vehicle down there.   
  
The guy at the front is dirty, sweaty, and an absolute slice. He tosses a handful of snarky comments at me but I leave my car there and the next day I have a rude message on my phone about how my transmission is all fixed and I can come get my car.”  
  
Lance smiles at the memory, and Shiro seems just as intrigued by the recount. He settles an arm around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him a little closer.   
  
“So I take a bus to get my car, and this guy, its Keith obviously, is there. Grimy. Ponytail. Scowl. I have to bang him. So as he’s passive aggressively telling me that I need an oil change and running my card, I write my number on the back of the place’s business card and leave it on the counter for him.   
  
And I don’t hear anything.   
  
Great.   
  
So I keep thinking about it. Like, what, he doesn’t want this? Is it because I’m not a car? So I decide, you know what, I’m gonna go back and get that oil change. I go, and he’s there, and he asks if I want to wait for the oil change or come back later.   
  
So I ask, ‘am I gonna have to wait as long for the oil change as I am for you to call me?’   
  
And of course he has no idea what I’m talking about.   
  
I tell him about leaving my number, and he says he thought I just left the business card out. We look through the stack and lo and behold, my number is on the back of one of them.   
  
I wait for the oil change and afterwards he takes me to get coffee to apologize for the miscommunication. It was friendly at first but we bonded pretty quickly. I had to push my way in a few times, but here we are.”   
  
Shiro grinned, his expression bright. “That’s awesome,” he said, giving Lance’s shoulder a squeeze. “He really loves you, you know.”   
  
“I know. I love him, too. But you guys... You two have a chemistry I haven’t seen him have with anyone.”   
  
“We click, yes. But what he has with you is deep. We couldn’t be anything without you. And I really like you, too, you know?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah,” Shiro whispered. He paused, as if he was considering saying something else, but instead he turned his head to press a gentle kiss to Lance’s temple.   
  
Their silence was companionable, comfortable as they sat and watched others go about their business. If Lance turned his head far to the right, he could glimpse Keith sitting across from Allura at a small table, leaning in and speaking with an air of intensity.   
  
Lance turned his attention back to Shiro, to the mass of his thighs under Lance’s legs, to the warmth of him pressed to Lance’s side. To his smell, of a sharp cologne that made Lance want to bury his face in Shiro’s neck and inhale.   
  
The best part was that he didn’t have to hold himself back from doing so.   
  
He twisted, straddling Shiro’s lap and cupping his jaw in his hands, stealing a long kiss before pressing his face into Shiro’s neck and breathing in. Shiro laughed, a low and warm sound, his hands coming to rest on Lance’s hips.   
  
“Hello.”   
  
“Hi,” Lance breathed, feeling almost dizzy with the concentrated scent and the overwhelming realization that Shiro was no longer off limits. “You smell really good.”   
  
“Thank you,” Shiro purred, one hand sliding up under Lance’s shirt to rub his lower back. Not overly sexual so much as soothing, intimate, skin on skin.   
  
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I feel so giddy all of a sudden.”   
  
“Its fine, it’s natural,” Shiro murmured. “I’m excited, too.”   
  
“Oh, my God, we’ll all be able to cuddle together.”   
  
Shiro laughed.   
  
“Maybe not in my apartment, we won’t all fit,” Lance rambled. “But at Keith’s or maybe yours- not that I’m inviting us over or anything, I’m just saying that. If you wanted.”   
  
“I would love to have you over,” Shiro said.   
  
Lance sat up to be able to look at Shiro, a grin spread across his face.   
  
“Soon, then?”   
  
“Soon. Whenever is good for your schedule, sweetheart.”   
  
“Okay. I like it when you call me that, Takashi.”   
  
At the sound of his name, Shiro’s smile turned soft, his eyes impossibly gentler. He reached up to touch Lance’s cheek, his fingertips reverent and loving.   
  
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips barely parted, and Lance couldn’t help but steal another kiss, then another, nearly unable to pull away from this new and addicting well of adoration and masculine perfection that was Shiro.   
  
Of course, when Keith returned, he demanded his fair share of kisses from the both of them, to which they gave with delight.  
  
***  
Shiro’s apartment was on the third floor of a complex. The interior had slick wooden floors, and the decor was modern and functional. It could have been something out of a hipster magazine, complete with a faux leather, gunmetal colored couch. There was even a refillable bottle of water and a package of trail mix sitting on the industrial glass top coffee table.   
  
Lance decided that it was very Shiro, and he sat on the couch to take in the TV that displayed the logo of a streaming service, and the array of little knickknacks that decorated the bookshelf off the one side. Books, obviously, but there was also a framed photo, a candle, a tiny ceramic lucky cat, and a model of some kind of military style plane.   
  
Lance felt giddy. He was in Shiro’s apartment. Where Shiro kept his things and lived and slept and just was himself. It felt intimate to be there. He remembered feeling the same way the first time he had been at Keith’s, despite the differences in style and decor. Where Shiro was neat, Keith was overrun, his walls and shelves covered in personal affects and interesting items, almost to the point of bursting, yet uncluttered. Organized. They both had their ways of organization, while Lance preferred to toss things to the wind and let them fall as they may (dirty laundry included).   
  
“Can I get you something to drink?”   
  
“Water?”   
  
Shiro nodded and disappeared into the kitchen area, the view partially concealed by a half wall topped with a counter.   
  
They had been on three dates since they had begun their relationship. One quick lunch date during Keith’s break, one coffee date, and another dinner date. Each one companionable, each one finished with a round of kisses. Lance learned something new about each of his boyfriends on each date. His recent favorite was that he enjoyed being in the middle and holding one hand in each of his own.   
  
Shiro returned, a glass of water in hand. Lance took it gratefully, attempting to look collected as he took a sip, and not like his heart rate had kicked up to a million beats per minute.   
  
Instead of meeting at Altea, the three of them had decided to try a sleepover date that Friday. Whether or not they were going to engage in any intimate acts remained uncommented upon, but Lance hadn’t been able to keep from masturbating every night since the proposal, his mind filled with all the possibilities.   
  
But he didn’t want to assume. He brought an overnight bag with nothing that could be construed as a sexual expectation. Just pajamas, toiletries, and his pillow, just because.   
  
He took another drink of water, then placed it squarely on the slate coaster on the side table. Shiro had sat down beside him, close enough to touch if they wanted. Lance draped his long legs across Shiro’s lap, his back against the arm rest of the couch. He watched Shiro’s profile as he navigated the TV screen through movie options, admiring the cut of his jaw and the angle of his nose.   
  
“You know,” he said, drawing Shiro’s glance. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked what you do. I bet you’re a model.”   
  
Shiro’s laugh was genuine and loud. He grasped Lance’s ankle affectionately, his eyes crinkled with mirth.   
  
“No way. I’m a flight test engineer. I design flight test programs and analyze the data. I used to perform actual flight tests of aircraft prototypes after they passed computer testing.”   
  
“Seriously?” Lance tried not to let his mouth gape open. Shiro nodded. “But you don’t fly anymore?”   
  
A pause.   
  
“I was honorably discharged from the military flight program due to medical reasons.”   
  
“Oh. I’m sorry.”   
  
“It’s alright,” Shiro said, rubbing Lance’s leg soothingly. “I still get to work in a field that I enjoy, and I mostly get to work from home, if I want.”   
  
“That’s awesome,” Lance replied, reaching over to grasp Shiro’s hand. “Makes my degree look kinda pathetic.”   
  
“Marine biology, right?”   
  
Lance nodded.   
  
“I think it’s cool. You should be able to do what you love.”   
  
Lance smiled and shifted, moving until he was against Shiro’s side, his legs still over his lap, Shiro’s arm settling around him. It had become their go-to position.  
  
“Want to watch something until Keith gets here?” Shiro asked, looking down at Lance fondly. Lance shook his head, deciding to take charge before Shiro could continue the line of conversation. He tilted his head up to kiss Shiro, chastely, but with enough intent to hopefully get his desire across.   
  
He honestly expected to be denied, for Shiro to gently separate them and insist that they wait for Keith. Or perhaps he would say that it was too soon for anything like this, and that they should just watch a movie instead.   
  
But he didn’t.   
  
Shiro kissed back, his other hand coming up to cradle Lance’s jaw, tenderly. It was sweet, but progressed far longer than any simple exchange of affection should have. Lance ran his hand up Shiro’s chest, allowing himself to feel the firm muscle beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. When he reached skin at the neckline, his first intention was to shy away. But neither of them were any stranger to this sort of thing, and Lance wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. So he let his hand continue, sliding up Shiro’s neck and up into his hair. It was too short to grasp, but it felt good to rub his palm over as they kissed with a growing intensity.

Shiro leaned forward, forcing Lance to lay back against the couch- it would have seemed more forceful if Shiro hadn’t cradled the back of his neck on the way down to support him. They continued to make out, the kisses turning open mouthed and heated. Lance shifted beneath Shiro to wrap his legs around Shiro’s waist, arching up into him as Shiro’s tongue slipped between his lips.

It was more than he could have wanted, and he almost felt like a teenager again, wildly turned on by touching and just a few dirty kisses. Shiro seemed to feel similarly, because they didn’t stop, not even when a knock sounded at the door and Keith walked in.

“Really?”

Shiro finally pulled away, his lips wet.

“Don’t be angry,” Lance said, too lightheaded to feel worried.

“I’m not,” Keith said. “You just beat me to the punch.”

“You snooze, you lose.”

“Boys,” Shiro said, a sentiment meant to calm them, but Lance found that he rather liked being one of Shiro’s boys.

“Hey,” Keith said, dropping his bag on the floor. “I should get something, since you started without me.”

“Whatever you like,” Shiro responded honestly.  
  
“Allura said you have a boot collection.”   
  
Keith’s words were concise, to the point, and full of badly hidden interest. Shiro stared at him for a moment, calculating.   
  
“I wouldn’t really call it a collec-“  
  
“I want to see them.”   
  
Shiro’s sigh didn’t distract from the sudden excitement on his face, nor the tight tension in his shoulders as he rose, offering a hand to help Lance up and beckoning for them to follow him down the hall.   
  
Tidy, but comfortable, his bedroom seemed normal, with no hint of his sexual interests, until Shiro opened the door to a walk in closet, turning on the light and gesturing for the boys to look inside. Keith went first, walking past the hanging clothing and storage to the back, where a wooden shoe rack proudly boasted a modest collection of leather boots in different styles.   
  
Most were black, and a good portion of them were combat and jump boots in varying heights. There was also a pair of jackboots and a pair of heels that looked to be made of latex. Next to the rack was a black box, and beside that was a small hanging rack that sported a handful of fetish clothing and accessories, along with a solitary flogger and a riding crop. Nothing compared to the collection at Altea, but far more exciting, because they belonged to Shiro.   
  
He leaned on the doorway, arms crossed as he watched the two. Keith had crouched down in front of the boots to get a better look, as Lance hovered behind him.   
  
“Do you have a favorite?” Lance asked, and Shiro smiled. He indicated the pair sitting on the far right of the top rack, a handsome pair of black boots with toe caps and heel counters. They looked a little more military than the ones Shiro had worn to Altea before, and a little simpler in design. But they were polished to a high shine, well-loved and beautiful.   
  
Keith picked them up, carefully, holding them by the soles rather than the tops. He studied them for a moment before a determined look crossed his face, and he strode out of the closet and set them down at the foot of Shiro’s bed.   
  
“I’ll put them on you,” he said to Shiro, his mouth set. “My safewords are red, yellow, and green.”   
  
Lance smiled, just a little. Keith was being a bit of a bully, sure that he would be denied. Lance himself had been on the receiving end of Keith’s stubborn bluster, and he knew how difficult he could be, how he hid insecurity behind brashness.  
  
But Shiro didn’t seem to be considering denial at all. He walked around Keith to sit on the bed, just beside the boots. “Mine are the same,” he said, his voice calm and deep. “Put them on me. We can pause when you’re finished.”   
  
Lance wasn’t sure how he could possibly iterate a safety plan and sound so incredibly sexy at the same time, but he did. Lance’s lips still tingled, a sensation that was beginning to creep lower.   
  
Keith dropped to his knees in front of Shiro, their eyes locking for a few brief moments before he reached for the right boot. The laces were undone already, so Keith pulled them completely free before opening the tongue of the boot and offering it to Shiro, who gracefully slid his foot inside. Keith sat back on his heels and drew Shiro’s foot to rest on his thigh as he gathered the laces in his hands and began to thread them through the grommets. He moved slowly, concentrating, pulling each cross section of lace taut before continuing. It was rhythmic to watch, and Lance drew closer to perch on the edge of the bed near Shiro to get a better look.   
  
There was only so much boot, and Keith quickly reached the top and tied off the ends of the laces. He paused, settling his hands on Shiro’s ankle, one along the side and one cupping the back. He drew Shiro’s foot up and bent down to meet it in the middle, pressing his lips briefly against the toe cap before setting it back on the floor.   
  
Lance felt his breath catch, and he glanced at Shiro. His eyes were dark, focused solely on Keith as he picked up the other boot and offered it, just as he had the first. The process was the same, but perhaps a little slower as Keith attempted to draw out the moment. The only sound was the drag of the laces through the grommets, creating a sort of trance in the room.   
  
When Keith lifted the left boot to kiss the toe, Shiro moved, deliberately pressing he sole of the boot squarely against Keith’s chest. A small, ragged exhale escaped him, his hands still holding Shiro’s ankle. Lance could see the muscle in Shiro’s thigh flex as he pressed his foot forward, increasing the pressure on Keith. But Keith pushed back, nearly grinding his chest into the sole of Shiro’s boot, his fingers seeking something on the slick surface of the leather to grip onto.   
  
Lance could see how quickly Keith’s breath was coming, how riled up he was. But he was behaving, staying on his knees and letting, no, encouraging Shiro to step on him. Lance wasn’t as familiar with this side of Keith. But he was showing it to them, willingly, opening up a million possibilities and the realization that their relationship, even Lance’s relationship with Keith, was still so new. There were thousands of things they still had to learn about each other.   
  
Shiro moved his boot, lifting it over Keith’s shoulder and settling his knee there, giving Keith a direct line of sight to his crotch. His boot rested against Keith’s back, close to his spine, heavy enough to feel distinctly. Keith’s tongue passed over dry lips.   
  
The sight was incredibly sexy, and Lance couldn’t ignore the throbbing in his cock- he crossed his legs discreetly but firmly, desperate not to interrupt the scene before him.   
  
“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro said, his voice low and tender.   
  
“You’re welcome...”   
  
“I’m going to admit, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt so dominant.”   
  
“Just from the boots?”   
  
“From you being on your knees in front of me. Tying the laces. Kissing the leather. You, submitting to me and wanting to.”   
  
Keith shuddered visibly. Shiro reached out to touch his jaw, to tip his chin up.   
  
“I know that submission is hard for you. This was a great start, and you did so well.”   
  
Keith flushed furiously, turning his head away. Shiro just smiled, playfully ruffling his hair and sitting back, returning both boots firmly to the ground. It was like a spell had been released, and Keith stood up to stretch. Lance took a breath of air no longer filled with the tension of Keith experimenting with submission and the arousal between him and Shiro.   
  
“I’m itching to give out a spanking. Any volunteers?”  
  
Oh, and the air was difficult to breathe again.   
  
“God, me,” Lance nearly gasped, his chest flush with heat. Shiro grinned and beckoned him closer, and Lance crawled across the bed to him.   
  
He half expected to be shoved across Shiro’s lap, but instead, Shiro caressed his cheek, meeting his eyes with a still sort of gravity.   
  
“You aren’t being punished,” he said, echoing the sentiment he had given every time he had been physically rough with Lance. “This is for fun. Do you understand?”   
  
“Yes, sir.”   
  
He was rewarded with a kiss.   
  
“Tell me your safewords.”   
  
“Red, yellow, and green.”   
  
“And if you can’t speak?”   
  
“Are you going to gag me?”   
  
Shiro smiled. “Perhaps.”   
  
“I’ll tap your thigh, three times.”   
  
He was rewarded with another kiss, longer than the last.   
  
“I think,” Shiro began. “That you should blow Keith while I spank you. And I won’t stop until he comes down your throat.”   
  
“Fuck,” Keith swore, making the two of them laugh.   
  
“Keith seems down,” Lance said, settling himself down across Shiro’s lap, a delightful place to be. “I am, too.”   
  
Shiro immediately settled a broad palm on Lance’s lower back, secure and comforting. As much as Lance liked to be roughed up, he still felt jittery in the moments leading up to it.   
  
They watched as Keith shimmied out of his jeans and kicked off his boxers, unashamed of his half hard cock and his state of undress in comparison to Lance or Shiro. He was bold as he sat on the edge of the bed beside Shiro, his knees spread and his expression expectant.   
  
“Don’t be shy,” he teased, and Lance adjusted himself to balance on his elbows so that he could reach. He nuzzled against Keith’s bare hip, placing a fleeting kiss there before turning his attention to the real prize.   
  
Shiro’s hand was slowly squeezing his ass through his jeans, setting a slow pace, so Lance began with little kitten licks against Keith’s heated flesh, focusing on sensitive spots in an attempt to draw it into full hardness.   
  
In fact, he was so engrossed in the gradual swell of Keith’s cock against his lips and tongue that he didn’t notice exactly when Shiro had started to actually hit him. Like with the cane, his blows began gently and built with intensity, in such a way that Lance hardly registered the changes. That is, until he could fully feel Shiro’s palm striking his ass, despite the material of his jeans providing a bit of a barrier.   
  
Regardless, they wouldn’t stay. As Lance began to wriggle in his lap, Shiro reached beneath him to open the front of his pants and haul them down far enough to expose his underwear. Lance exhaled softly, making Keith shudder and grip his hair.   
  
Lance eased forward more, rising up on his elbows as much as he could to take Keith into his mouth completely, his cock heavy and salty on Lance’s tongue. He could feel the spanking more acutely now, with just the thin material of his underwear to shield his warming skin from Shiro’s hand. He was going slowly, Lance could tell. Rather than a rain of blows, Shiro’s pace was heavy but steady, more like the crash of a wave than anything else. It was easy to get lost in the intense, rhythmic burn, not too hard that he couldn’t stand, but not too soft to be ignored.   
  
To relieve the pressure of arousal between his legs, Lance attempted to part his thighs, but was restrained by his own jeans. Even so, spreading his legs bared a lower, more sensitive part of his ass to Shiro’s palm.   
  
Lance wondered if he had always felt so breathless while giving a blowjob. He pulled away from Keith briefly to take several heavy intakes of air, thick with heat. Before he could fully satiate his lungs’ need, a rough hand gripped a firm handful of his hair at the root and dragged him back to Keith’s cock. The hand, Keith’s hand, also forced Lance down onto it, the head threatening to hit the back of his throat.  
  
Lance struggled to quickly relax his throat to avoid choking, his hands gripping helplessly at the comforter below him. With the sudden motion, he didn’t notice that Shiro had pulled away his underwear as well, until his palm struck bare skin.   
  
He moaned around the cock in his mouth, making Keith curse and grip his hair harder. He whimpered, and Keith pulled his head up about halfway. Lance began to use his tongue with vigor, hoping to hasten the end of the spanking now that the blows were skin to skin. He began to twist his hips in Shiro’s lap, seeking either relief from the pain or from the impatient burn of his own arousal. However, Shiro put a stop to that with a solid arm around his narrow hips, keeping him still.   
  
Lance whined again, trapped between two points of strength and desire. Somewhere, he was aware that the blowjob he was giving was sloppy, and that he was probably cheating by sneaking a hand in to stroke Keith’s cock while his tongue frantically worked the head, desperate to bring about the end of what was quickly becoming too much. The burn of Shiro’s palm against his flesh was starting to flirt with the line between pleasant ache and unappealingly painful, and he used his mouth as best as he could to beg Keith to come across his tongue and provide respite.   
  
With each new strike, slow but still heavy, Lance made a sound against his will and intent, his body unable to keep from reacting as he kicked and tried to twist away. Even so, he poured as much focus as he could muster into treating Keith’s cock sweetly.   
  
Similar to when Keith caned him and Shiro ordered him not to bite down on his fingers, Lance’s attention and nerves began to focus almost completely on not biting or stopping his ministrations. His entire being narrowed to that single point of tension, to provide pleasure to his partner unerringly. It was all that he was good for.   
  
The bitter rush of come on his tongue was welcome, like a reward, and Lance swallowed gratefully. He sought more, licking Keith’s oversensitive flesh until he was pushed away and Keith’s voice announced,   
  
“I’m good. You can stop.”   
  
There was no final hit, just the gentle touch of Shiro’s palm coming to rest against his ass. Lance dropped his head onto Keith’s thigh, quaking between him and Shiro as they paused.   
  
“Fuck,” Keith murmured again, breathless as he absently pet Lance’s hair. “That was phenomenal.”   
  
“Good?” Shiro asked, and Keith must have nodded, because he continued. “Lance should be allowed to finish, too.”  
  
“I agree,” Keith said, and Lance gasped quietly as Shiro’s palm moved to gently stroke his skin, bright red and alight with tenderness.   
  
“Come on,” Shiro prompted, and Lance slowly pushed himself up and stood, his knees quivering as he gingerly removed his jeans and underwear, casting them to one side. Keith and Shiro both watched him, one with satisfaction and the other with unbridled want. Lance straddled Shiro’s lap, winding his arms around his neck and briefly touching their foreheads together.   
  
“You should get to finish, too,” He whispered. “I want you to fuck me.”   
  
Shiro placed his hands on Lance’s hips, his thumbs stroking small circles into his skin. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered back. Lance cupped his cheeks, rough with the beginnings of stubble. Again, his thumb brushed the edge of what felt like scar tissue.   
  
“But I think it would hurt you,” he said, drawing Lance’s attention immediately back. He opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced with a heated kiss. “How about we do something else?”   
  
“Anything you want,” Lance assured him sweetly, grinding down on Shiro’s lap only to regret it as the rough material of his jeans scraped against his tender skin.   
  
“Get up,” Shiro said, and Lance obeyed, his imagination running wild. Part of him just wanted to rub himself off on those slick boots that Keith had laced up. But most of him wanted to wait and see what Shiro had in mind, so he stood in place, watching as Shiro rose to rummage in a drawer on the bedside table.   
  
He returned with a half empty container of lube, which he set on the edge of the bed. He gathered Lance close, pulling him in to shower him with a series of slow kisses. He melted into Shiro’s arms, suddenly acutely aware that Shiro was fully dressed and he wore nothing but a thin T-shirt.   
  
“Bend over,” Shiro murmured to him. “Or lie down. I’m going to make you squeeze your thighs together, and I’m going to fuck the space between. Color.”   
  
“Green, please,” Lance responded, loathe to let go but eager for what would come next. He turned his back to Shiro, his gaze drifting to where Keith reclined on the bed, watching them. Their eyes locked as Lance bent until his back was nearly horizontal, placing his hands flat on the bed. He felt Shiro’s hand first, a familiar broad palm that swept appreciatively down his spine, over the aching flesh of his backside, then down between his cheeks and thighs.   
  
Lance parted his legs out of habit, but for the moment, Shiro didn’t seem to mind. He opened the container of lube, warming it in his hands before returning to smear it over Lance’s skin, in the tender space just between his hole and his cock. Even that contact felt good, and Lance gave a little sigh as he tilted his hips back. His stomach began to twist in knots as he heard the zipper of Shiro’s jeans opening- he really was having sex with his new boyfriend, with Keith watching them.   
  
Shiro pressed close, suddenly flush against Lance. He had just opened his pants enough to free his cock; the denim was rough against Lance’s reddened skin, and he whimpered. But Shiro’s cock was like velvet as it slid between Lance’s thighs, nearly between his cheeks, hot and hard and a little larger than he had imagined. Want thrummed through him, and he could feel his own cock begin to leak desperately as Shiro leaned over to whisper gruffly in his ear,  
  
“Make it tight for me, sweetheart.”   
  
Lance shifted obediently, rubbing his ass back on Shiro as he pressed his thighs tightly together. It didn’t feel like enough, not with the girth between them, but the involuntary thrust Shiro gave was proof of his success.   
  
Shiro placed his hand on Lance’s upper back, and Lance arched beneath it as it slid down his spine to curl around one hip. His other hand mirrored the first, his fingers pressing insistently into Lance’s skin as he dragged him back with each insistent thrust, slow but firm. There was little to no resistance, not with the amount of lubricant Shiro had used. Lance could feel him acutely, the length in each stroke, the girth spearing his thighs, the thickness of the head as it poked out with each forward press.   
  
Lance imagined that they looked quite the sight. Keith didn’t have to imagine- he watched openly, supine against the upper part of the bed, his cheek resting on one hand. His body was relaxed but his gaze was heated, seemingly content to just watch his boyfriends fuck. Lance made sure to meet his gaze as he reached down to rub at the head of Shiro’s cock when it showed between his legs, making him exhale heavily, the air cool against the light sheen of sweat on Lance’s back.   
  
“God, Lance,” Shiro murmured, his voice deep and rough. “You feel just as good as I thought you would.”   
  
“You thought about it?” Lance managed to ask, his heart stuttering at the compliment and at Keith’s amused smile.   
  
“Yes,” Shiro answered, his grip on Lance’s hips tightening. “Even before we were together. When I jacked off I would think about how you would feel, how the both of you would feel.”   
  
The thought of both himself and Keith submitting was an alien one, but not something he himself was opposed to. But the part of Shiro’s statement that really got him was the admission that Shiro masturbated while thinking of them.   
  
“You don’t have to just jack off any more,” Lance said, beginning to flex his thighs to create a pulse around Shiro, making him groan and thrust harder. The room filled with the sound of their coupling, the harsh slap of Shiro’s hips against Lance’s ass, as tender as it was. He whined, more in acknowledgement of the pain than complaint.   
  
Shiro had mercy on him then, one hand sliding around to wrap around his neglected cock, nearly encompassing it. Lance cried out, a pathetic little sound as he nearly collapsed. He was struggling to hold himself up with one arm under the deluge of sparking pleasure and residual pain, but he refused to stop. This was too good to pause, not when they were so close.   
  
In fact, he was closer to orgasm than he had anticipated; the firm strokes of Shiro’s hand around him made him quiver with an undefined sort of pleasure, an ecstatic spark that started low in his body, rising quickly to a crest that made him writhe and undulate against Shiro as he moaned wordlessly, save for his name.   
  
“Takashi-“   
  
“Say it again.” The demand sounded strained.   
  
“Takashi,” Lance obeyed, his voice low and breathless as he panted for air in the wake of his orgasm. Shiro still had him in hand, making his oversensitive flesh shudder and weep. Lance didn’t imagine he could take much more of it, but luckily, Shiro seemed to be close behind.   
  
When he came, it was with a curse and a heavy exhale, quieter than Lance would have wanted. But the wet smear of semen on the inside of his thighs more than made up for it, and Lance reveled in the primal satisfaction of being marked. He stilled his hand and bent to rest on his elbows, his forehead to the comforter as he let himself come down from the high.   
  
Shiro seemed to be doing the same, if his pants against Lance’s back were anything to go by. But after a moment, his hands began to move, coming up to grasp at Lance’s shoulders and work the tension from them in slow strokes. Lance melted into the bed, content to let Shiro massage him as he warmed his cock, still and heavy between his thighs.   
  
Finally, Shiro stopped, pulling away with the quiet suggestion that they clean up.   
  
***  
Upon realizing that Shiro’s shower could not accommodate all three of them, they decided to shower one at a time, so the other two could have some time together. Lance went to shower first, feeling particularly sticky. The hot water made the sensitized skin of his ass burn, a solid reminder of what had transpired.   
  
When he returned to the bedroom, he saw Shiro sitting on the edge of the bed, Keith resting his head in his lap. Shiro’s boots had been removed, and they sat idly on the floor next to Keith. Shiro was stroking his hair.   
  
When they noticed him, Keith smiled, standing to take the next shower. He paused to kiss Lance as he passed by before leaving him and Shiro alone.   
  
Shiro beckoned him close, holding him around the waist as he came within arms’ reach.   
  
“I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”   
  
“No,” Lance answered, settling his arms around Shiro’s neck. “I had a good time.”   
  
“Good. Let me put some lotion on you.”   
  
Lance, never one to turn down attention, allowed Shiro to pull away just enough to retrieve a bottle of lotion he must have grabbed for this purpose. He was gentle and attentive as he spread the cream over Lance’s tightened skin, soothing his sounds of discomfort with kisses.   
  
Once he was finished, Shiro simply held Lance for a while, until Keith emerged, swathed in steam.   
  
“Feel free to get ready for bed if you’re tired,” Shiro said, standing and heading for the bathroom for his own shower.   
  
Lance and Keith agreed that it would be a good idea, and they both set about folding down the sheets of the bed and tidying up. Keith put away Shiro’s boots, almost reverent in his treatment of them. Lance turned on the bedside lamp as Keith flipped the lights, and they got into bed to simply lay together and wait for Shiro.   
  
“Good?” Lance asked.   
  
“Good,” came the sleepy response. Lance smiled, reaching over to play idly with Keith’s hair as he dozed.   
  
When Shiro returned from the shower, he looked relaxed, content. He was shirtless, effortlessly perfect, and completely willing to be cuddled.

But Lance was truly overdue for ruining absolutely everything, so he did, opening his mouth and blurting,  
  
“You shouldn’t sleep with makeup on.”   
  
Shiro paused, tension returning to his body.   
  
“You’re right,” he agreed, hesitating for a moment before returning into the bathroom.   
  
Anxiety began to make Lance’s heart pound, and he slipped out of bed to follow Shiro.  He was standing at the sink, a wipe in hand, scrubbing away what was, in fact, makeup. Beneath it was a thin scar that crossed over the bridge of his nose and beneath his eyes. The skin around it was only slightly discolored, and the scar itself seemed well healed.   
  
“I didn’t mean to-“ Lance began, but Shiro cut him off.   
  
“No, it’s fine. I should take it off anyway. I shouldn’t hide things from you.”   
  
“It’s your business.”   
  
“It’s done now,” Shiro said, tossing the wipe and reaching for a jar in the medicine cabinet. It contained a white cream, which he dabbed over the scar. He turned back to Lance, an odd expression on his face. Lance reached for him, cupping his cheeks and drawing him in for a chaste kiss.   
  
“You’re handsome,” Lance assured him, taking his hand and leading him back into the bedroom. Keith was waiting for them, still half asleep, but willing to make room for Shiro to get in bed, Lance close behind. The two pressed close to Shiro, who made sure to kiss each of them before settling down himself, hopefully just as happy as they were.   
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [tumblr](http://alphabetaclear.tumblr.com/)!


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